Echo of an image
by tylee17
Summary: Max’s lifeless form limp in his tired arms, he pushes himself on, drawing from the last strength he finds within his exhausted limbs... No one knows what happened to Max and Alec, but whatever it was, it might prove to be too traumatic to bear...
1. I

_The usual holds true of this little story as well: I'm only playing here, no infringement intended._

_A/N: What can I say: I have absolutely NO idea what I'll come up with this time... Yeah, like I usually do… So let's just wait and see…_

* * *

The wet slap-slap of his feet on the ground.

He doesn't bother getting her down into the sewers. Nobody's attempting to assault them openly now, anyways. Something scares them off, holds them at a distance.

Some dare a short glance, and, awed, stare on in silence.

* * *

A smile.

His naked body pressed into hers, hard. Heat and bare skin and the light breeze of his breath in her hair, on her face, his lips buried against the nape of her neck, his hands all over her.

And her hands?

All over him, tracing inch after inch, feeling herself, feeling _him_.

* * *

Afterward, she felt exhilarated and also paralyzed by utter horror at her own betrayal.

"Oh God. Logan." Her voice a mere whisper, the shock apparent.

"Ouch, Max, that hurt. Please tell me you did _not_ just mistake me for the Log," Alec said, mock hurt written on his face like a text wanting to be read by someone able to perceive the tiny bit of real pain hidden in the space between the lines. But he smiled at her, a confident, self-assured expression. So proud. So strong.

If only…

Right now, Max's own features were distorted by some feeble remainder of her usual self-confidence, her no-shit-attitude.

"Please, Alec," she begged, immediately hating the needy tone that crept into her voice. "We can't tell anyone… – him. This… it'll devastate him, it –"

His face erupted into an even wider smile, one of the widest she had seen in a long time, and although she fought it – and hard – she couldn't help but wallow in the warmth of it.

"What? You told the Log we two got it going, but when we're actually starting to live up to everyone's expectations you wanna lie to him about that, too?" he asks, incredulously, still reassembling his clothes. "Yeah, like that would sound at all convincing… okay, maybe the guy _really_ thinks _all_ your relationships are as…" he let his words trail off and stepped away from her, seemingly playfully, but she wondered whether her plea might have hit a nerve. Something about the whole thing confused her.

Though why it would she didn't know.

She wasn't even mad at the things he didn't say.

"It's just…" she started, but immediately fell silent. Yeah, what? Logan already thought she and Alec were an issue, so why did she feel like she was betraying him all over again? After all, she had wanted it this way, had wanted this chance for him to get over her and start a new life, without feeling bound to her, without endangering his fragile life daily just by being close to her, by seeking her company.

What had happened now wouldn't hurt him any more than her harsh, never verbalized non-denial of a while ago which had started all this.

To Logan this was all old business. He had moved on long ago.

And so had she. With Alec.

It was no crime; what they had done only a few minutes ago. Heat of the moment.

No. Not that. It had been more than that. It _was_ more. She knew it, and so did Alec.

She couldn't make him lie for her again. Couldn't make him shut up about it just because.

Yeah, _just because_ of what exactly, anyways?

Old stuff.

What the hell.

She wanted him, and he wanted her.

And Logan…

It was only she didn't really wanna tell him.

Maybe she didn't have to? Could let it slide? Surely he suspected as much already? After all, he thought she and Alec were having a full-fledged, big style, real thing relationship.

The whole _love-and-passion, no-virus-and-therefore-real-hot-sex, – but please no vivid details! – X5-relationship_-dealio, right?

Okayyy…

Max sighed as Alec leaned into her, breathing into her hair again, making her want more instantly, right when he pulled away.

"Come on, that mysterious _Eyes Only_ informant-dude's waiting for me. And I'm pretty sure you're needed elsewhere, too, right?"

She rolled her eyes. Elsewhere… He could say that again.

"Elsewhere" meant Logan's place. He had said something about a new lead on the Conclave's whereabouts. White's name prominent, of course, as was to be expected.

Her nemesis.

She wondered who would follow after that man. If ever she'd manage to off that Conclave-bitch White in the first place, that was…

There'd always be a Lydecker, Renfro, White, or the likes of them breathing down her neck. Only their names changed, and maybe the people they were working for.

With the last remnants of her feelings for Logan having softened down to the love for a friend something else had shrunken along the way.

Her dream of one day being nothing more than a normal girl, with a normal little life, it had fled out of her grasp and been replaced by the growing shadow of a lingering hope for something else.

To not be alone.

This one refused to die, in spite of all the people who were gone already, in spite of all those things that made her head swim and threatened to overwhelm her if she did as much as allow herself to think about them…

A sad smile flitted across her face for one lost moment.

Max sighed silently, her eyes on Alec, tracing his way along with him, before she followed him out of the room, reluctantly finding her own way.

* * *

Her head secured against his chest, her mind drifting off, she feels the rest of warmth radiating off of his bare chest, and she manages one half lucid thought.

Why hasn't he bothered with a shirt in weather like this? It's Seattle after all, and it's the middle of winter. It does get cold here from time to time.

Like now.

He'll catch his death out here…

Her mind numbs, giving way to the continuous throbbing sensation echoing on inside her skull.

Silver light enters her vision and she stares up into his face, sees everything; his eyes, the shadows underneath, his dark lashes, his lips, dry and colorless, every tiny line; his handsome frowning face. She sees it all, everything, and a flicker of... what?

Her eyes widen as the light enhances her senses one last time before her mind shuts down completely, feeling, hearing, knowing nothing…

* * *

The wetness underneath his feet leaves a trail of red on dark cold asphalt as he straightens up once more. Max's lifeless form limp in his tired arms, he pushes himself on, drawing from the last strength he finds within his exhausted limbs.

His last reserve.

It has to suffice, and if he should die running to get Max to someone who can help her, then so be it.

He will.

* * *

_So, this is a start at least, huh? We'll see about the rest…_


	2. see

_Thank you guys for the nice reviews. On we go, then…_

* * *

Right when he starts thinking he won't make it – too tired, his whole body too exhausted, his feet beyond sore – Terminal City emerges in front of him, a mythic island in the middle of a hazy fog.

He doesn't even remember how he got there, doesn't remember anything but Maxie's head pressed against his chest, the fleeting pulse in her temple, her blood sticky on his clammy skin, the light breaths escaping between her bloodless lips.

He clenches his teeth against the numbness, the pain, and once again forces himself to resume his slow and swayed walk.

He doesn't realize how dangerously close he is to losing consciousness, to drifting further off into the looming dark shadow that started enveloping him a while ago.

There's only Max in his arms, and the city in the distance, growing bigger and fuzzier with every step he takes.

* * *

Mole sees the lean figure enter Terminal City at a staggering run, the image on the screens in front of him gray and slightly grainy due to the poor quality of some of the cameras. But they are lucky to at least have those darn things. Mole curses nevertheless.

And why shouldn't he? This place is crap. Max's stupid plan of achieving integration simply by staying on? Bull. Even now he starts growling to himself, still not sure what has made him stay when he could be somewhere else, where it's warmer, and a little less exposed.

The transhuman rubs one heel of his hand across his forehead before staring at the multiplied image in front of him again. He squints his eyes when suddenly he realizes what exactly he is seeing here.

Who.

Not wasting precious time he instantly grabs the radio transceiver lying to his left and raises a prompt alarm.

* * *

The three ordinaries choose this moment to enter Command, chuckling to themselves, happily oblivious to all the things Mole never once forgets to weigh in his mind. Disgruntled he turns to them, snarling out a rather unfriendly welcome.

"Why are you here? This is no time…" he doesn't bother to finish his sentence.

Original Cindy raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Better not mess with Scaly Boy when he's like this. Instead she exchanges meaningful looks with the other two, Logan and Sketch.

Cale, of course. But Mole never manages to recall the other dude's name. Irksome kid.

Hell, they all are. Kids. They don't belong here. This is no place for untrained civilians.

When it comes down to it this is a war zone.

"What happened?" Logan dares ask, detaching himself from the little group. Mole is even grumpier than usual. It's not difficult for Logan to conclude that something has happened that poses some kind of problem, and if there's anything he can do, he'll gladly offer his help.

"Mole," Dix's disembodied voice suddenly fills the room, the radio set only a few inches away from Mole and the bunch of ordinaries, "I sent Med and her team out to meet the two. She'll report back to Command with info ASAP, over."

"Roger that. – Any indication of further attack? Do we need teams out there?" Mole sounds all business, making the three others cringe a little in their fearful ignorance.

"Doesn't look like it, but we don't know much so far. I'm coming in, though. I'll bring Luke. Over."

Mole hates those stupid transceivers. Back when he was still considered nothing but a tool for winning a war he had been given his orders and that had been that. Real responsibility is different, though, and those cell phones, radios, and whatnot unfortunately a necessary evil in these days.

It doesn't mean he has to attach stupid words to the beginning and end of every freakin' sentence he speaks.

"Stop this 'over' thing, Dix, and get your ass over here. I'll send word to teams I through V to go on stand-by until we know what this is all about. And I want word instantly as soon as Med can confirm their identities."

"Roger that. Over and ou-… oh, _whatever_." Dix's annoyed voice ebbs away, leaving the others in the relative silence of the nearly deserted Command room.

Logan is more than curious now. His grin vanished during hearing the short radio exchange and he froze. Med is that tall woman working in TC's infirmary. Someone is coming in wounded and he has the troubled feeling that it might be Max.

She has been gone for quite a while now, and although everyone else simply believes she and Alec have eventually given in to their need of some overdue downtime, Logan has always doubted that. Max doesn't do downtime; unless she is hurt… He bites his lip and flinches at the thought.

"Mole?" he rushes to break the silence, trying also to prevent himself from delving deeper into unbidden memories. "It's Max, isn't it? Tell me…"

Behind him, OC grabs Sketchy's arm, her fingernails clawing into his shirt in sudden fear. "Is my boo okay? What's goin' on here?" she asks, her words ringing with concern.

"Damn right. What's up here, dude?" Sketchy furrows his brow, suddenly as tense as the rest of them, and no longer looks as laid-back as he is probably still aiming for.

Logan stares at Mole, waiting for confirmation. He barely notices the reptilian man's slight nod, but when he does he returns the gesture in understanding. He wants to see Max, right now, needs to know that she's alright. But Mole's face says differently.

This is not good.

As if on cue, Cindy walks up to the two men, leaving Sketchy in her wake.

"So?" she queries, both hands placed on her hips as she straightens to her full height in front of Mole and Logan, staring from one to the other. "Any of you gonna tell a girl what's goin' on?"

"Um," Logan makes, lost for words. What is there to say? He doesn't know anything.

"Nothing confirmed, yet." Mole is surprised at himself for having answered her just like that, no stalling, no growling… He never knew ordinary females could be this… well…

With a loud noise the radio crackles to life again.

"Mole, this is Med. It's them! I repeat: it's Max and Alec!" the voice of a woman could be heard. Then, before the connection dies again, they all hear someone's loud cursing, and after that: "Ro, we need the fucking van here _now_. NOW! Shit, this is –"

Dead.

The four hold their breaths.

This is – _what_?

* * *

Just when his knees finally give way and the ground rises to meet him, he hears someone call out his name, and hers. But his mouth is so dry, there are no words. He can't even swallow. He might already be dead.

And maybe she is, too.

Still, in one last desperate effort he manages not to crush Max's tiny form with his falling weight, and coming to lie on his side, he is able to let his eyes wander over her pretty features for a last time before darkness envelops him, a heavy blanket drowning out all sound, all pain, cushioning his tired mind with grateful oblivion.

* * *

_Alrighty. This is it for today. Paving the way for what is to come later…_


	3. no one

_Let's see whether the medics arrived in time…_

* * *

They only have one gurney, but two unconscious soldiers. They should have thought of bringing another one, of course, despite what Mole saw on screen. They simply should have _known_. It's always more than one. Always.

But time is running out for at least one of the wounded, and therefore Med is forced to make a quick decision guided by what her first glance tells her: a whole story and yet nothing. She orders the others to gently lift Max onto the gurney and wheel her to the van, while Ro grabs Alec in a fireman's carry and seats him in the passenger seat as carefully as possible.

They need to hurry. No time to lose.

But there never is…

* * *

Mole is furious. Despite shouting viciously at one of the staff, he does not get any piece of information out of the guy and is thus forced to wait uselessly in front of one of the operating rooms for what seems to be forever. With every hour that passes, he and his little kindergarten of ordinaries grow more and more agitated until, finally, Med materializes in front of them, emerging from the heart of the hospital, exhaustion showing on her shiny face and marks of perspiration staining her scrubs. Mole can't help thinking that she looks awful, and that in itself is not a very comforting thought.

Logan is the first to jump up from the plastic chair he has occupied these last hours and instantly his agitation turns to anger. Without really giving Med any chance to speak he snarls out: "Are you just going to stand there, or are you telling us how Max is? – How _they_ are?"

Both the medic and the reptilian man stare at Logan for a second before Original Cindy puts one calming hand on the man's shoulder, and in stepping forward, asks again.

"What our boy here is tryin' to say is that we're all real worried, so please…"

Hell, if this were any other day, Cindy'd be hittin' on that fine chick by now, but with Max and Alec in the hospital, she can hardly think about the _possibility_, and if that ain't telling OC don't know what is…

Med grimaces sympathetically. She shifts her position a little, leaning her back against the wall because she feels so tired that she can hardly stand. Directing her talk to the ordinary woman, for whom – she can't stop thinking – the word "ordinary" is no suitable description, she starts telling them all about the X5s' conditions.

"Max suffered an open head trauma caused by a bullet wound." She ignores the gasping sounds coming from her audience and continues seamlessly, "We were able to retrieve the projectile and luckily there was not much splintering of the skull involved. Nevertheless, we won't know how severe the injury is until she wakes up."

"Brain-damage," Logan whispers, his face falling in a grimace of horror, his shoulders sacking. In an effort to try and regain his composure he then quietly asks, "Will she survive this? Is there a chan–"

"We don't know that yet, as with most trauma cases the next 24 hours are crucial. So far, her score in the Glasgow Coma Scale has not dropped under 10 – which is excellent, considering." She stares into bewildered faces, having forgotten for a moment to whom she is talking. She clarifies: "No coma. Yet. 8 is the critical value."

"Can… can I see her?" Logan's voice is hardly audible.

The man is obviously badly shaken by the news.

Med hugs her shoulders in a gesture of discomfort. Something about dealing with ordinaries gets to her. They are not trained to never let on; in their expressive features she can see all those emotions Manticore's tough training has so long ago succeeded in wiping from the features of her fellow transgenics when faced with similar situations.

This is a first.

Still trying to rouse herself from a short stupor, Med foolishly allows the man to visit her patient, even though she does remember to tell him not to stay longer than a minute. When he walks past her, his anxious eyes looking for some kind of guidance she cannot offer, she dumbly says, "Second door to the right." And he manages one nod in answer.

Med hears the woman sigh, a sad sound. Ordinaries truly don't guard their feelings well, and that irks her more than it should…

"And Pretty Boy?" Original Cindy finally asks, seeing as Mole doesn't make any moves to ask about their other friend. In fact, side-glancing at the transhuman she notices that Scaly Boy looks a little paralyzed at the moment, more shocked than she herself is. And Max is _her_ boo…

When the Pretty Tall doesn't answer, simply furrows her brow, Cindy specifies, "Alec?"

"Oh, right. Nothing too serious. Well, given the circumstances… Although he must have grazed his last reservoir of strength by getting Max here. Severe case of overexertion; hypothermia, dehydration… What worries me most are his feet, though."

"His… _feet_."

"Yeah. Apparently someone administered a whole web of deep lacerations across them, mostly injuring the tissue of the soles – unfortunately including nerve tissue. The tissue must have been gravely damaged even _before_ Alec ran the distance from wherever he and Max have been back to TC."

OC and Sketchy stare at her in shocked disbelief, while Mole searches his pockets a little too ferociously and extracts one of his cigars. Thank goodness he always stashes one of them away in reserve – for bad times. He puts the Cuban to his lips, the mere taste of cold tobacco helping him to focus, and ignores Med's accusing stare.

"Mole. This is a hosp-"

"Don't get your panties in a twist. It's unlit," he grumbles automatically, preoccupied with what he just learned about the two X5s.

A female hurt too gravely to carry her own weight, a male whose feet have been badly messed with…

Something about that threatens to trigger a memory somewhere deep inside his brain, but one or the other synapse refuses its service and he is left with the irksome feeling of not being able to quite grasp the true importance of Med's information. He has to see Alec, has to talk to the man now, or the near-thought might evade him completely.

He pushes the weird kid out of his way, and walks up to the X in front of him, grabbing her shoulders in a gesture of utter urgency.

"So where do I find Alec?"

"Mole, he lost consciousness when –"

"Fine, I'll find the way." He makes to barge through the door sealing the emergency area off the hallway, but with surprising strength Med holds him off.

"He is _asleep_, Mole," she hisses with sudden venom, "He deserves some rest after whatever ordeal the two have been through! Don't you think?!"

Grudgingly he has to admit as much, if not verbally. But he takes a step back and locks his gaze with hers. OC dares place her hand on his arm and he doesn't shrug it off.

"Just… call me as soon as he's awake. Whoever did this is going to get… _punished._"

And that translates _killed_, Mole thinks before suddenly turning on his heels and walking out of the hospital as fast as possible without appearing to run.

* * *

When Alec wakes up he doesn't immediately know where he is and panics. His breathing rate gives him cause for some concern as he is pretty close to hyperventilating. Of course that knowledge doesn't help him at all. He would curse his Manticore-style "up-bringing" for making him think unnecessary rational thoughts in a situation like this if only the panic weren't so prevalent in his mind.

He frantically rips out some kind of IV-drip stuck in his arm, causing blood to seep down his skin in the process. Then he pushes himself up and out of what seems to be a proper bed, only briefly wondering why they have actually _bandaged_ his feet now. Still hurt like hell.

Staggering to the door he has discovered to his right, Alec silently tests it and surprisingly finds it unlocked. Still desperately fighting to calm his breathing, he pokes his head out of the room.

Clear.

He needs to find Max –

"Alec!"

His eyes widen in sudden shock and, paralyzed, he shrinks against the wall.

* * *

_Well? ... More to come soon. I hope…_


	4. but

_You guys enjoying this so far? Hope you don't mind that the chapters are getting ever longer… (:_

* * *

There is no coldness now, and no warmth. A void, neither dark nor light. And beyond that…

… someone…

* * *

… "So, White," Logan was saying, leaving the sentence hanging unfinished. He stared up at Max standing not two feet away from him, fidgeting a little uneasily; rather un-Max-like.

"You sure everything is alright, Max?" he asked for the third time that day, her indifference toward everything he so far told her finally getting to him.

"Huh?" she made, then quickly slipped on her Manticore-mask of composure and answered in the affirmative. "Course, Logan. – You say White and that mysterious man in a tux have met again?" Careful not to touch him, not even his clothed arm with her gloved hand, she pointed to the picture lying in front of him on the desk.

He sighed. If she had to ask again, she hadn't listened to one word he said in the last few minutes.

"Max. Did Alec do something? If he hurt you..."

"What?!" she blurted out as if his question were the stupidest and most impossible thing she'd ever heard.

"Yeah.." The word lingered in the space between them for a moment, "Your lovable boyfriend who always manages to –"

"Stop it, Logan!" she cut across him, making him blink at the sudden harshness of her words.

"I was only saying…"

Max simply stared at him, obviously a little annoyed.

"Well. Don't. Alec would _never_ hurt me," she eventually stated matter-of-factly, with peculiar vehemence denying the mere possibility of Logan's assumption. "Actually, the only thing he did… I'm sure you don't really wanna hear about that, Logan, so let's just get this White bitch out of the way now, shall we?"

Logan could see it then, shockingly clearly. There was nothing he could do or say, no hope left that the whole thing might have been no more than her weird idea of protecting him. Knowing it hurt even more than he had thought possible.

It _hurt_.

He had lost her and he knew it.

* * *

someone

* * *

"Alec!" Logan repeats, guardedly approaching the X5 who stares at him like a wounded animal cornered by its hunter. The ordinary frowns in bewilderment, worrying about the effects of whatever had been done to the other one that made him panic at the sight of a familiar face.

"Alec, it's me, Logan. You're okay…" he says, his voice even, although he has to admit to himself that the transgenic's haunted stare scares him a bit. He can't possibly compare the man to an animal, and yet, he is sure that like any injured living being that felt threatened, Alec would surely pose to be a formidable opponent even in his current state.

"I'm sure you should stay in bed, tho-" He can't finish his sentence as right then, the other one lashes out at him, and he has to take a quick step back. Still, Alec's fist would have connected with Logan's head, would have struck a heavy blow, if Joshua hadn't appeared out of thin air at exactly that moment and grabbed Alec's bruised looking wrists with both hands. Logan hasn't even seen the man coming, but he is more than glad the big fella is here now.

Really stupid idea to draw the attention of an apparently traumatized X5 on himself, Logan thinks, shaking his head in disbelief, exhaling slowly, and wiping one hand across his now slightly sweaty brow. That was a close call.

Joshua spares him an odd look, beckoning him to back off a little further, and Logan happily obeys. Better leave the big guy to deal with his friend, he is definitely much better at it and, besides, Logan rather wants to go visit Max anyways.

"Uh, I guess I'll just…" he waves to the two others, but neither pays any attention, so he just shrugs and leaves the scene, Joshua facing Alec, the X5 still in some kind of stupor…

* * *

"Alec okay now?" Joshua asks worriedly, taking in his friend's defensive stance and disheveled looks. Poor kid doesn't appear to be his usual cocky self at all.

But then, who knows what he and little fella have been through in the last couple days. Joshua is only sure about one thing: it must have been something awful.

Alec eyes the big guy warily for a couple of seconds, then the over-alert tension eventually leaves his body and he manages to relax enough to endure the carefully administered bear hug Joshua surely assumes is not as crushing as usual.

Well, mistake there, buddy.

Alec has to fight down the impulse to fight the man, though, which is no easy task. Not even when taking into account his utter exhaustion, or the fact that the other one is simply stronger, heavier, and – well, bigger.

At least Alec understands something now that he has met the big guy...

It means he _has_ succeeded in getting Max back home, no imminent danger now. Not anymore. She's safe. She is safe. And he…

So that mythical pile of buildings had indeed been Terminal City in all its grandeur, not some trick of illusion his mind had played on his eyes? The medics must have been real, too, no part of the illusion, as that had not really been one in the first place anyways. Explains the dressings on his injured feet…

And Max? Did she really make it?

There was so much blood...

Instantaneously, the panicky feeling returns, and his newly erratic breathing robs him of well needed oxygen. He feels wobbly, and his vision is slightly clouded, but that is okay. It's okay. He's nearly used to that now, isn't he? He can do this.

"A- Alec alright? Alec must lie down again," he hears his friend call out in a strangely alarmed voice, but nothing really registers with his exhausted mind. Only Max, and maybe that torturing pain.

An old sensation by now; still hurting like a bitch, still killing him slowly.

But no rest until he knows…

Finally reading Alec's mind, Joshua lightly pats his friend's shoulder and gently steers him back to his room. The poor X5 is so spent he doesn't even remotely succeed in his lame attempt at fighting him.

He might have tried harder if it hadn't been Joshua, though. The big fella knows Alec, knows what the guy can be like, knows more than the others. Alec is Alec. He always finds a way to hurt himself even further when he is already injured. Visibly or not. Max or Joshua – sometimes neither – can deal with him when he is like that. Joshua knows that, Max does. Sometimes the others don't, and he has to tell them.

Like Mole.

Josh sees to it that Alec lies down again, ignoring the dangling tube of the drip for now. There'll be time for that in a few minutes, he is sure. His friend won't be able to keep his eyes open for much longer.

Alec stares up at him, at the big fella, a pained and troubled look if ever Joshua has seen one. At least the frightening panic seems to be gone; but he is still waiting for some info concerning Max.

Of course.

So the transhuman begins to tell him what little he knows: "Just back from visiting little fella. Scale up to 11!" he exclaims excitedly and noticing his friend's blank stare he tries to elaborate a little, thus further soothing the other.

"11: Max doing – doing _fantastic_. – So Alec sleep now. Joshua and Logan and O-O Cindy all watching over little fella. Alec sleep. Tomorrow…"

The big man no longer needs to struggle for words to say as the X5 in front of him is already fast asleep again, exhaustion tainting his drawn features, making him look more fragile than Joshua has ever seen him.

As fragile as his inside at last.

Joshua sighs, a troubled expression crossing his face. Then he presses the button to call for Med, who needs to readjust the IV.

Poor kid hurt his arm when trying to get to little fella.

Med will not like it. Neither does Joshua…

* * *

She opens her eyes to a strange whiteness and doesn't know where she is. Panic, a feeling so clear and outlined it slowly brings back her other senses. She finds her mouth, her throat, blocked by something and gags, the panic rising even further. She claws at her face, trying to grab at whatever it is that obstructs her airways, when someone's blurred face appears towering over her.

No.

A frenzied choking sound escapes her, but she doesn't notice.

_No no no no no_

"Shh, it's alright, you can breathe, just calm down. This is only helping you breathe, Max. – Max!" Logan says, aiming for a soothing tone, but failing horribly in his own panic. He can't touch her, can't grab her hands or else he might die. But if she continues like this…

Frantically he buzzes for Med, or someone else to come, anyone, while Max herself thrashes out ever more panicked.

Out. Out! She needs to get out of here, away. Away from this man, _away_…

Finally she gets the thing out and the shock of the suddenly lacking air in her lungs makes her blink, trying to ward off the dark spots, the bright stars of unconsciousness, and then she remembers one thing.

Only one

someone

Too late now…

* * *

_Well? Ready for more, anyone?_


	5. you

_Better late than never: here's the next one…_

* * *

Breathing, such an underestimated task… It costs Max a lot to go on with it, to progress from one slow and labored inhalation to an only slightly less demanding exhalation, first one and then the other.

She doesn't remember ever having felt the strain involved before. Neither has she fully appreciated being able to breathe in the past. Never… Not like she does now.

But she manages to breathe ever more calmly, gradually improving. There's only the in and out of air briefly making her lungs expand, then contract.

It's easy.

And yet so difficult she doesn't have the strength to do anything else. She is too busy trying to stay conscious and ward off the dark blotches, the bright stars that are still threatening to cloud her mind. It makes her vulnerable, this weakened state she's in, but she is too preoccupied with her current task to bother much with panicking.

The danger is imminent, of course. But there's nothing she can do about it now.

Only one small section of her brain stubbornly refuses to shut down, making her cling to a small hope for the impossible: that whoever the stranger in her room is won't hurt her like the others have…

Just _breathe_…

* * *

Med rushes into the room in a flurry, her hands already fumbling for the tracheal tube lying loose on the pillow beside Max's pale face, when she realizes that her patient is actually breathing on her own, unassisted.

This woman sure is a true fighter, Med has to acknowledge in genuine respect and checks Max's vital signs instead of inserting the tube again.

She is doing great…

The ordinary who called her stands close beside the bed, blocking Med's way when she tries to check whether the crocodile forceps attached to Max's finger is still securely in place.

"Logan, will you please step back a little?" she has to say eventually. More of an order than a question, really, but the ordinary is so agitated he hardly seems to notice that his presence is not exactly helpful here.

Especially considering that he must not – by all means – touch her patient…

"I'm sorry," Logan mumbles, his tone beat, his face still frozen in shock. With his eyes fixed on the now still form of his friend he seems to be hardly able to keep his apparent urge to hug her in check.

But he has to.

"Tell me something," he eventually whispers silently, while Med checks Max's vital signs one last time.

She is acutely aware of the fear tingeing his words and flinches a little in anticipation of whatever he is going to say. "Yeah?" she makes, eyeing him curiously. Oh, she does feel sorry for him…

"Will she – I mean, this trauma you were speaking of…"

A clucking noise escapes her as he falls silent and stares at her expectantly. It's not difficult for her to guess what is on his mind, and she doesn't have the heart to make him struggle for a way to put it into words. What is it with her and those ordinaries, huh? First that woman the other day, and now this.

"I can't tell you that, Logan. But she is a strong woman, a fighter…"

"That she is…" The trace of hope on his face makes her wince involuntarily, and she reprimands herself for her weakness. The COs back at Manticore had not exactly nurtured compassion in their subalterns…

Logan's eyes cloud over again rather too quickly and he clears his throat in sudden embarrassment. "It's only," he starts, then hesitates shortly, "when she opened her eyes – before you got here… I thought she didn't even… is it – well, it _is_ possible that she doesn't even remember who I am, right? Certainly, cases of memory loss, of – of _amnesia_ occur quite frequently with victims of such severe head injuries like Max's, if I'm not completely mistaken?"

She merely nods in answer, not accustomed to the ordinaries' subtler ways of dealing with the truth in hospital settings.

Already she is half on her way out of this patient's room. Max will be okay for now, she breathes steadily and independently, although still monitored, and her lips have taken on a slightly rosier hue. She is doing just fine.

There are others waiting for Med, though; it's a busy time at the moment, the infirmary more crowded than usual. There's never enough time…

Logan suddenly grabs her arm with unsuspected vigor as he begs, "Can I stay with her, just a little while longer?"

His abrupt question makes her sigh with something bordering on annoyance, but she lets it slide and allows him to stay. After all, her patient is asleep, the danger stalled for now. The guy can't really do much damage if he remains silent.

"Um, Med?"

How come he still finds things to say? She blames it on his being an ordinary, for wont of a better explanation, and wonders whether her fellow transgenics ever talked so much. "Huh?" is all she manages in way of acknowledging she heard him.

Logan falters once again, yet unspoken words tasting like bile on his tongue, and he wishes more than anything he could simply swallow them down, make that nauseous sensation go away along with all the rest, and never offer Med the chance to confirm the harsh truth of what he saw only a few minutes ago.

"Max… you know, funny I should say this, really, but – she nearly seemed to be _afraid_ of me…"

Silence fills the room at that, punctuated only by the amplified sound of Max's beating heart.

* * *

"Any progress yet?"

The voice, strangely calm, gentle even, invaded her peripheral consciousness, but unable to wholly grasp the meaning behind the spoken words she drifted off again into the realm of darkness without sound, of pain without feeling, of seeing without knowing.

What are words, anyways?

Everything.

* * *

A piercing pain in his eye as they resumed torturing him like they had done the past few days. There was no end and no beginning.

Everything as one.

He knew this feeling, he'd been there before. More than once.

Something was different this time, though.

Everything.

* * *

When Alec wakes up, Joshua is still there, sleeping in a chair, not more than a few feet away from the door as if to ward off any uninvited intruders.

Too bad he is too fast asleep to hear Alec leave his bed once again, who, this time, at least detaches the IV with a little more care so as not to rip open the inside of his other arm as well. Not that he'd really mind that much. It's nothing compared to the pain that are his feet; feet that hardly carry him now and make him stagger rather than walk. The searing sensation traveling upward along his nerves causes him to scrunch up his face in agony, threatens to make him pass out, but stoically he breathes through it, focusing on the one thing that is important now.

Max.

He finds her room as if guided by some inner knowledge and opens the door without making a sound. He's an X5 after all; opening doors is not exactly a challenging task.

His eyes find her right away, a few feet into the room she lies on white sheets resembling those on his own bed, her heavily bandaged head resting on a pillow, blending with the cloth beneath her. And yet, she looks peaceful, as peaceful as he's never seen her, not during the last days of horror.

And not before…

Logan sits beside her, too focused on watching her every move as to notice Alec's presence. Well, he's always been good at blending in, at not being seen or heard. Good old Manticore at its best, after all.

A hooray for his great training.

Alec feels sick to the stomach. But at least Max is alive. She is hurt, yes. But she is alive, and safe. Logan is with her, the friend she'll always love. Joshua will be there for her, too…

When he sees the ordinary stir in his chair, he wheels around and out of sight, choking down a sound of pain bubbling up inside him at the sudden movement of his sore feet.

Biting down hard on the inside of his lower lip, he forces himself to leave, leave the hallway, the hospital, leave Max.

In the safety of her friends' care.

Nothing he can do now.

But walk away…

* * *

"I want your full evaluative report by tomorrow afternoon 1500 hours. Until then, close observation, and the usual treatment. The scheduled date for release is when exactly?"

"Thursday, Ma'am."

The woman nodded, no emotion marring her chiseled features. "Good," she said, her lips barely moving, her eyes never leaving what lay behind the two-way mirror in front of her.

The past. The future.

An experiment, and a new chance.

"Call me if there are any changes. – And, let them recuperate a little before Thursday…"

* * *

Mole stands in the doorway, bemusedly realizing that Alec's bed is empty. There's only Joshua in this room, sleeping in a chair, oblivious to the absence of his friend until suddenly jerking his head up to stare at Mole.

"Where's he?" the reptilian transhuman barks out before the other one has time to say anything at all.

"Uh – Alec? Alec in be- oh, Alec – Alec not here, Uh oh… Better find him, find Alec soon. Med will – will be mad, if she finds Alec out of bed again. _Mole_…"

The big fella practically pleads with him and Mole frowns when realizing that Josh obviously doesn't have the slightest clue as to the X5's whereabouts. Great. So much for confronting the guy with whatever happened to him and Max.

Just – perfect.

* * *

_Oh well… Next one might take a day longer, so please bear with me… (I'll try my best to get it out ASAP, of course.)_


	6. are

_Okay, sorry for posting this later than usual, but here goes, and thanks so much for all your sweet "attention" (:_

* * *

"Whoa, dude," Sketchy exclaims when that weird lizard-man practically collides with him in his hurry. "Chill, 'kay?"

Mole only stares at the kid and rolls his eyes. What is that one thinking in that stupid little head of his daring to suggest Mole chill! _Chill_… The transhuman growls in anger and pushes Sketchy to the side, out of his path.

At that the guy calls out, "Hey, what's up with _you_," sounding kind of pissed now, too. But Mole is not going to reward that question with an actual answer. Nope.

Ordinaries.

He walks past Sketchy, not sparing him a second glance, his mind already elsewhere. Now that Alec has left the hospital, and with Max still being unconscious, he might have to find out what happened to them all by himself.

He simply _has_ _to know_.

He should check Alec's apartment first, though. Knowing Pretty Boy, the guy probably discharged himself and went straight to his own place. Hopefully, talking to him will give Mole a little more insight into the whole obscure matter. After all, it's as clear as crystal that whatever led to the two X5's – to his two _friends'_ injuries had not been a "simple" case of transgenic-bashing. The parts simply don't add up. Max's shot-wound, Alec's feet. And when everyone had still kept thinking those two were enjoying a few days off, they probably had already been held captive somewhere…

Mole hates to admit it, but he even worries for the X-series these days and not only for his fellow transhumans. For Max and Alec more than for anyone else… their business has become his, and vice versa. Call it pathetic…

_A female hurt too gravely to carry her own weight, a male whose feet have been badly messed with…_

Something about that…

If only he could grasp it.

A threat to TC…

No.

A threat to all of Manticore's creations.

* * *

A soothing melody, a voice Max doesn't know, cannot place.

But what _does_ she know, except the pain that is her head?

She opens her eyes to an unaccustomed whiteness of walls – and light, and tries her best to get her reluctant brain to work.

Whiteness, sheets, her head hurting like a bitch… So many fragments she has to try and make sense of, but it's so hard with that fire coursing through her brain.

At last, though, something does click: strange though it may seem they must actually be trying to patch her up again after that bullet – fired by one of them in another time and place – had hit its target. Had hit _her_… She remembers the moment before it was fired, the image a frozen still she'll forever carry inside of her.

The moment she had finally seen Alec again.

He had seemed to be alright then – at least going by his crooked definition of the word…

Max winces involuntarily. Obviously the part of her brain usually preoccupied with worrying about Alec is still intact, still working just fine…

But if the pain reverberating in her skull is anything to go by, she must have suffered one bad injury to her head. It would fit, really, regarding her luck of the last couple days… Hopefully, though, her ability to recall the things that happened before the shot is a sign that her Manticore-created brain didn't suffer too much damage.

And yet there is this fog clouding her mind, and a subliminal fear that seems to increase whenever she contemplates the possible reasons for this fear, reasons that lie half hidden somewhere deep in the folds of her consciousness.

Ignoring that feeling for now, she slowly dares to shift her head a little so as to take in the rest of her surroundings, and suddenly cries out in shock.

A man…

Where exactly is she, where is this place, is she still…

"Shh, Max, it's alright. You are in the hospital. You got shot in the head, do you remember that?" the man queries, but she shrinks away from his gloved hand, trying to evade him as best as she can. But it's so hard with a head like that and limbs that don't seem to obey her as nicely as usual.

"No. No no no, please… Nnnnnnnh. Alec!" she calls out without even realizing that she does. All she wants now is Alec. She _needs_…

"Max, it's me, Logan. Logan, remember? I'm… I'm not going to hurt you, I'd never…"

Oh god, she wails, if silently, but she wails. She _never_ does. She is Max after all, right? And yet…

"Alec," the single word no more than a scared and pained whisper.

"Oh God!" Logan exclaims in his helplessness and runs to the door. "Help! Someone. I need some help in here!" he shouts, turning his head around to make sure Max isn't killing herself by trying to escape her hospital bed prison…

"Med? Ro! Someone, _anyone_… please…"

"Logan, what…" OC stands in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of Logan's frantic desperation and her boo's thrashing body on the bed. Without further thinking she runs to her friend's side, places two hands firmly on her flailing arms and tries to calm her.

Max's eyes are wide with shock, her feature's frozen in silent protest for a second before she starts fighting Cindy as well.

She knows those people aren't strangers, she can somehow feel it, but still.

God, all she wants is…

"_Alec_…"

* * *

Mole arrives at Alec's apartment, just having come up with something appropriate to say to the guy – actually heeding Josh's plea to go easy on him for once, only to find the place deserted.

Wait. What the hell?!

The transhuman growls in annoyance, smacking one hand hard against the counter in the X5's tiny kitchen, where a half-empty mug of some hot beverage or other sits, still steaming quietly. Fresh.

Dark liquid spills when Mole knocks the thing off the table and it runs along the gaps in the floor until reaching his feet. He sighs resignedly, staring hard at broken shards of china.

He is too late by a few damn minutes. Crap!

Now, where else to look for the kid? Max's place, maybe?

_A female hurt too gravely…_

He slaps the back of his head in a ridiculous attempt at forcing his mind to shut up about that half-finished thought. It pisses him off. And when Mole is pissed…

He huffs out, squares his shoulders, and leaves.

* * *

Joshua finds Alec in his apartment, seated in an easy chair worn with age and overuse. He doesn't look up when Josh enters the room, doesn't even stir, although he sits rigid, and alert.

"Alec wanna talk?" he says softly, walking further into the room at a slow pace. He is too smart to alarm the X5 with sudden movements, now of all times.

But apparently Alec does not want to talk. In fact, if Josh thinks about it, Alec hasn't said one word since he and Max have come back to Terminal City. Not _one_. With Alec that is an even worse sign than with most other people Joshua knows…

The tall transhuman sighs worriedly, and regards the other one closely. His face half hidden in shadow, he can only guess what kinds of emotions might be visible there. Pain. Fear? Worry. For little fella.

Little fella and Alec.

"Alec needs to drink something hot and – and warming. Joshua will make – uh – tea. Alec has tea?"

Instinctively knowing what best to do, Joshua decides to play the X's favorite game today: pretend that everything is perfectly alright. So he heads off into the kitchen, rummages noisily through the few cupboards until he finds some scattered bags of tea. He sniffs at them, and deciding they will do, boils some water and sinks a couple of the bags in a mug until he is satisfied with the outcome.

"Tea will make Al-" the big guy stops mid-sentence, for right when he turns around, too hot mug held gingerly in both hands, he discovers Alec advancing into the kitchen at a slow yet decisive pace.

"Should not get up so – often," Joshua tries to scold him, but falls silent when his friend's eyes pierce through him in a mixture of annoyance and self-contempt. This one sure hates to be seen in a weakened state, he truly does. Joshua knows. Better than anyone.

Alec actually takes the mug out of his friend's hands and tries the contents, wincing as soon as the bitter taste reaches his tongue.

"Not – good? Joshua can make anoth-" the big fella worriedly offers, but Alec merely smiles, thus startling the other one into dropping the matter completely.

He _smiles_.

If only for a few seconds before that haunted look reappears on his face… But still, it was there, Joshua has seen it.

There's always hope.

When Alec suddenly starts swaying dangerously, threatening to drop the cup, Joshua quickly reaches forward, takes the thing out of his friend's hand, and gently stirs him to the one chair in the otherwise barely furnished room.

He can't possibly let Alec stay here alone, all by himself. He doesn't take enough care of himself…

"You have to come with Joshua. Stay at Joshua's," he therefore states firmly. He is determined not to allow the other one to refuse to do so, and suddenly sees the one good thing in an Alec not his usual talkative self: he won't voice any objections…

* * *

"Why did she react like that? Is she, is her brain, I mean…" Logan is angry with himself for stuttering like that, for not being able to get one coherent sentence out in one piece. But the shock of seeing the fear in Max's eyes, fear aimed toward _him_ of all people, simply proves too hard to swallow.

From love via Alec to _fear_?

This cannot really be true. It can't.

Med pats his shoulder in a gesture she has seen ordinary doctors use on their patient's family and friends. She looks hard at him in her attempt to focus while that woman is still standing right beside him. Cindy. So now she has a name…

"I don't know, Logan." And that is the truth. Med had had to sedate the poor woman again because she was so out of it, threatening to hurt herself, and so scared for no apparent reason.

What had those bastards done to her?

"What I do know, though, is, we better get Alec back here for when she wakes up again."

* * *

_A female… and a male._

Female. Male. X5s. Transgenics.

And suddenly Mole does remember something else…

* * *

_Well, to those of you gonna watch the dead rise again in that dubious season premiere… enjoy! (:_

_As for the next update on this, well, unless you guys'd totally freak out about it, it might again take me a day longer… Getting there, though, I think. I hope..._


	7. here

_Huh! What little it takes to motivate me to update sooner rather than later. Thanks for the sweet reviews you guys. Hope you'll enjoy this one… (:_

* * *

"Damn damn damn!"

This cannot really be true.

"Mole? Everything alright back there?" Dix stares over to where his fellow transhuman sits, and furrows his brow in wonder at the other one's sudden outburst. He balances dangerously on the edge of his chair and thus nearly falls off when Mole basically shouts at him in answer.

"ALRIGHT?! Nothing is alright! Not _one_ friggin' bit!"

The guy glares at Dix so angrily that he starts getting a truly uneasy feeling. Granted, Mole never actually looks very amused, but this now…

"Okay, now you got me worried: so spill."

* * *

When Alec entered Max's apartment without bothering to knock, she didn't reprimand him as usual. Why bother when he never seemed to care anyways, and obviously didn't even realize it when she kept her annoyance to herself for once…

"So, Maxie. You ready for our happy little holiday trip? I was thinking of driving down to Cali, taking the scenic route, you know? Come on! Should be fun. White and his well behaved little cronies all following us down the road in a neat little caravan?"

His hands drawing the wounded line of the highway in the air, he smirked at her, clearly enjoying the fact that they were forced to leave TC together – thus holding up Max's cover story even though none of them was quite sure about what to make of their shared moment of passion a few hours earlier. Not just passion, actually…

Besides, Alec thought, if he had already been made the jerk who had "stolen" Max from Logan, why not make her little fairy tale the truth? Nothing to lose, really, only to gain. For both of them.

His casual announcement did make her glare at him eventually, though, annoyance – but also frustration – showing on her face by then, even if only for a minute. Seeing him smirk like that, all cocky smart-Alec through and through, she had to turn her head away from him quickly so as to prevent him from noticing the smile creeping up in her face. Damn. What had she done to herself, supporting Logan's assumption about her and Alec by – stupidly, stupidly – saying she couldn't deny their being together when he had practically begged her to do so.

_Tell me it's not true…_

_I can't…_

Couldn't she at least have chosen another guy? _It's not Alec, though, it's someone else_? But nope. She had doomed herself to spend way more time around this idiot than strictly tolerable – or necessary, and now she was left to deal with the consequences.

She should have never let it happen. They should have never gotten so close; and on _that_ level, too…

And yet, it didn't feel all that wrong…

"Hello? Earth to Max? You still in there?" Alec knocked on her head, a gesture she answered by batting his hand away angrily before continuing to pack some things into a carry-all.

"Huh! As fun as that may sound, Alec," she then scoffed, closing the bag and shouldering it, getting ready to leave, "but first I'll have to go elsewhere; there is something I need to do. And like you so rightly pointed out, you'll have to come with me."

"Maaax, I so like it when you get all bossy and stuff, it sure is a turn-on for a guy…"

She slapped him on the head at that, just as he lifted his duffel bag and made to follow her. "Cut it out, Alec!" she huffed, not even looking back at him.

Yeah, _what_ had she done…

"Ouch, Max. How'd I deserve that? Besides, won't you at least tell me what this mysterious 'something' is? Eh? – Come on, Maxie, you can tell me. Is it something naughty?"

"A-lec!"

The silent noise of his footfall suddenly died, forcing her to spin around and face him: the opportunistic guy who had made her life more difficult in many aspects, who had bugged her like a pain in the ass since she first set eyes on him, and who had still somehow managed to grow on her, had turned into a friend and confidant, and now…

He simply stood there, waiting. Not grinning anymore.

"Alright," she said, sighing, "It's this guy one of Logan's informants saw White talking to a couple of times –"

"Guy in a tux 24/7? Way too colorful tie?"

"That's the one… Logan finally located the place where they meet." She waited, suddenly tense. He could refuse to accompany her on her little trip, could leave her as soon as they were out of the city. It was his right, after all, he didn't owe her anything any longer, had made up for his… – blunder with the virus a long time ago. Still…

She sighed heavily, the sound unnaturally loud to her ears. Then, after having watched him continue standing there motionlessly, eyeing her in silence, she turned away from him again and resumed walking.

"Okay," she heard him say, his voice steady and firm, and her heart started beating more easily again, "So let's do this, then. – But as soon as we've figured that bitch out there'll be no excuse for you not to do that scenic route thing, and _I_ will drive, just so you know…"

* * *

There are still bits and pieces missing in the big picture, but Mole thinks that he has finally retrieved the buried memory that had bothered him so much the last couple days.

And now he knows why it had done so.

A female and a male, Max – their chosen leader in these times, Alec – her Second… But that isn't really what this is all about. He knows that now.

It's worse than that.

Leaders can be replaced…

* * *

When Joshua returns to the hospital to inform Med that Alec is doing alright and that Joshua made his X5-friend stay with him, he is shocked to learn that little fella is in a bad way and goes to visit her right away, despite Med's attempt to keep him from doing so.

"Josh, I had to give her something to calm her down, okay? She won't be very responsive – "

"Little fella upset, Joshua has to check on her."

"But as I told you, she doesn't seem to recognize her friends as such, she is scared, and I really think it would be better if we could just get Alec here, as she seems to remember _him_ at least…"

When she blocks his way, standing in the entrance to Max's room, he simply grabs her by the shoulders and stares at her, hard.

"No one tells Joshua not to go see his f- family!" he grumbles out, with more venom than he intended. But then, no one tells him what to do when his family needs him…

Med stays behind, exhaling loudly while she watches the big guy enter the room and head straight to the pale woman lying there in bed. Then she leans against the doorframe, waiting for the inevitable, and she doesn't have to wait long.

"Nnnnnnh, no no!"

"Li-ttle fella?" Joshua's voice so soft, so afraid.

And Max wimpering silently, pushing him away. But he has already retreated, his back practically pressed against the far wall in shock at having scared the girl.

"Little… But it's Joshua, Max. Big – big fella…" he trails off, her eyes clearly not recognizing him, her voice pleading for him to go away.

Calling out for Alec.

Little fella is clearly not herself, and yet she is; her inside turned out she lies there, more vulnerable than ever before.

He mustn't hurt her any more…

* * *

He pleads with Alec, begs him to go and see little fella, _begs_ him… But Alec refuses, and Joshua can see the light in his eyes go out every time he tries to persuade the X5 to accompany him into the hospital.

The big fella has seen the unbearable pain shadowed in those eyes the first time he told Alec about the terrible state Max is in; he has witnessed how quickly the kid shut himself off completely, refusing to show any sort of reaction.

But Joshua knows him too well, Alec only outsmarts Alec, after all, that simple statement still holding true…

The kid is hurting horribly.

What could be so terrible, though, that he so vehemently resists visiting his friend, his mate? If Josh should ever find out who did this to the two most important people he has left in this world, he is going to make sure –

He let them keep him from avenging Annie, and still regrets it after all these months.

He won't refrain from doing what his heart tells him to ever again.

"Alec and Max," he finally says in a last effort to get the guy to go and see little fella. He has even borrowed Logan's wheelchair to spare his friend the agonizing walk over there, perfectly well knowing that Alec would never allow himself to accept this offer of help. Nevertheless Joshua still hopes he might…

"You will be sorry if you don't go now. Joshua goes with Alec. Max needs Alec…"

And right when Alec finally seems to try and say something – if voicelessly, Mole storms into the apartment, making Alec jump in sudden alarm and back away, eyes wild and wary.

"Thank goodness, there you are!" the reptilian man shouts with obvious relief, fixing his gaze on his fellow transhuman instead of the way too tense X5 in the far corner of Joshua's messy living room, which is overcrowded with numerous paintings in different states of completion.

"Mole…" the big fella mutters, a little bewildered, "We were just – just going to visit little fella…"

"No! Josh!" Mole blurts out so vehemently that Joshua knows something is up.

"Uh, Mole – "

"Alec and Max mustn't meet before…" Seeing the expression of utter incomprehension on the other's face, Mole decides to keep it short and simple for now. "Listen, Josh: if this is really what I think it is, Alec visiting Max might rob at least one of the two of their sanity, understand? So, just keep the guy away from her for now, will ya? And let _me_ deal with it first."

"But…"

"Just do it, Josh!" Mole commands, his being a leader becoming ever more apparent with every second that passes. Their gazes lock for a moment in which Joshua seems to understand the urgency of the matter, and the inherent danger, despite his ignorance of the reasons for it. 

Both men nod, then Mole addresses Alec, merely calling his name in acknowledgment, before leaving again.

His eyes have said more, though, Joshua has seen it. I'm on it, they said, don't worry. We'll figure this out.

And suddenly the big fella knows what Alec had tried to say only a few moments before.

You have to go see her, Joshua had wanted to say…

_I can't…_

Dumbstruck, Joshua stands in the middle of the room, watching his friend sag against the wall behind him, exhaustion and pain turning his sunken features into a grimace.

* * *

_- _sigh_ - if that wasn't one interesting season premiere, huh? (yeah, right. Hopelessly pathetic? That's me…) (:_

_as for the new update: working on it…_


	8. to

_Holy crap, writing this for, like, a _week_ now!_

* * *

"You _can't_ go?" Joshua asks, finally breaking the dense silence that has crept into the room after Mole's departure. "Why can't Alec?"

Nothing but an ever more pained look in answer.

"But… but – little fella calling your name, Alec. She…"

Alec can't let the poor guy struggle to wrap his mind around that for much longer. It would be unfair to him, more than that: it would be cruel. After all, the big fella is worrying enough already – although Alec doubts that knowing what Alec does will even remotely calm Josh.

"… she needs you – Max and Alec! What… who…"

He could write it down for the big guy, what little he knows… But then, he might just as well start talking again. As long as he's here, safe in Joshua's apartment, she's going to be safe as well, right? No harm in saying one word or the other…

Besides, he's wasted enough time already, he really needs to pull himself together, get back on track. He's not helping anyone by remaining mute and broody. Not Max, not his friends, who are trying to help him, help her.

Not even himself.

No point in refusing to talk to anyone.

Unless it's Max…

* * *

Down in the heart of Terminal City, in Command, darkness dominates the scene, in spite of the silent images flitting across various screens that minutely record the goings-on out in the streets, different shades of gray filtering into the room. There's only one single spot of light illuminating a whiteboard someone has placed in the middle of the room.

A small group of people stands gathered around this board, a motley crew of ordinaries, transhumans, and Xs, all staring intently at the words Logan is scribbling down using the notes he made when listening to Mole recounting a long buried memory only a short while ago, adding bits and pieces of information gained elsewhere in the last two days.

Two days in which none of them – except for Med – has gone to see Max, whose name is the center of Logan's little diagram. The heart.

Max. And Alec.

Logan tries to sum it up as best he can. The things Alec told Joshua. The stuff his _Eyes Only_ informants dug out when doing some research for him concerning White and that stranger he went to see more than five times by now. He even sticks Sketchy's photos to the board with adhesive strips. White and his crony Otto, White and tux-man, tux-man in limousine, tux-man on the phone, White leaving – tux-man in the background.

Sketchy did a brilliant job getting those pictures so quickly; and Logan still wonders how he's done it when it had taken his informants weeks and weeks of fruitless searching to come up with one poor-quality photo of this mysterious stranger.

When Logan thinks he's finished he steps back a few feet to allow the others to see the amount of information they collected thus far. Mole and Sketch come up at his side and exchange glances.

Mole squints a little. It does seem to be a bit more tangible now that the ordinary put it all up there…

Alec sits in a hard-backed chair a little further off, shadowed by the enclosing darkness all around them. Joshua eyes his friend worriedly from time to time, but right now he is too intent on making sense of Logan's tiny writing to pay much attention to the X5 tensing yet again.

Logan crosses both arms in front of him and regards the diagram.

"Okay," he eventually says, "Short recapitulation: Mole, you say that the whole thing is some kind of set-up you first came across when Manticore sent you to another base in order to prepare for your mission in Iraq. That base was situated where again?" Logan looks at Mole for a prompt and, waiting for the guy to say something, pulls out the marker once more, ready to add the name to their not quite finished diagram. Anything might prove important.

"Utah."

"Uh – do you know which city?" Logan checks back, receiving a growl from the reptilian transgenic, who is standing no more than two inches away from him. The hairs on the back of Logan's neck start to prickle uncomfortably at that, although of course he knows Mole would never attack him...

"Just – Utah."

"Right, well… so…"

"Wow, Manticore does have a talent for choosing the most boring places in the whole freakin' US of A for setting up bases, huh? Ever thought how different things might have turned out if they'd chosen less barren regions for their neat little 'institutions'?"

Everyone basically jumps at hearing Alec speak again after days of mute silence, but the X5 merely stares back at them, shrugging.

"No?"

Joshua shifts uncomfortably, something in the tone of Alec's raspy voice sending shivers down his spine. But Logan is already talking again, and Josh doesn't have much time to contemplate the matter.

"Okay, same constellation as we have here now, with Max and…" Logan trails off, instead of saying Alec's name merely nodding in his direction. Somehow he doesn't think it's right to talk about the guy like he is not present at all. In fact, he doesn't think Alec should even _be_ here, as the things they are going to talk about now surely won't be too pleasing for the X5.

But of course he could never tell him to leave. He has no right to do so, not in TC, not anywhere else. Besides, the guy would never listen to him, anyways.

He snorts in sudden annoyance and earns himself a curious look from Sketchy.

"Dude, you okay?"

"Uh, yeah, just… you know."

"Yeah, whole thing is pretty wack, huh?"

Logan blinks, then decides to ignore the other one and resumes summarizing what little they know. "Mole, you said you finally remembered the incident when the two showed up here in a state reminiscent of something you had seen before. You merely couldn't place the memory back then, right? Now that you do, do you remember hearing of any reason why this had been done to the transgenics in question?"

Mole stares at the ordinary, then into the dark corner where he senses Alec sitting, perfectly calm. Too calm, maybe.

He has mulled the thought over and over in his mind for the last couple of days and has tried to think of a way to break the news to them as gently as possible. But he is no gentle person, and the things he needs to say are nowhere near gentle, either. Apart from that, he is sure Alec already figured out as much all by himself.

"As a means to permanently break the bond between them. They were the leaders of an insurrection back in Utah, and…"

No need to say more. Just no need… Of course it had not only been the end of _them_…

He can't help but wonder what Max and Alec's fate will mean for the whole of TC; not only their individual lives were affected after all…

Not even to speak of the yet greater danger looming ahead…

Logan clears his throat nervously. Mole in a state like this, all gloomy and not even a Cuban stuck in his mouth, makes him feel more than slightly uneasy. Once again he can tell that he doesn't belong here, he – an ordinary – cannot completely relate to what it means to be one of them. But he never cared before…

Quickly rousing himself he looks up to the others again, staring into faces shining with fearful anticipation reminiscent of his own feelings.

"Well, Alec said he was told by whoever had – uh – _done_ _this_ – that he and Max would never be able to work together unless Alec remain silent, because…"

Too hard to even finish the sentence, but this was not about him and his feelings.

"Because his voice will trigger memories linked to certain commands that have been placed somewhere in Max's mind, orders that she will follow without regard to their contents…"

He turns around to face the others again, OC gaping in shock, Med's soothing hand on her arm, Dix exchanging glances with Mole, Joshua, and Med, Alec sitting in darkness, back straight, shoulders squared in a gesture of defiance, eyes gleaming feverishly.

Logan stutters mentally, before taking up his thread of thought once more.

"As Max told me herself, before…um… – She was on her way to follow a new lead regarding a dubious new project of Ames White, who has been involved with a man whose identity we still haven't managed to confirm to this date, despite finding a couple of aliases he uses. The man remains a complete mystery." Logan stops for a short moment, giving the others time to process this new piece of information.

"Interestingly, Sketch here found out that our mysterious man in a tux happens to fly in and out of Utah more than four times a week, which is an unusually high number, even if taking into account that one of his aliases actually holds the job of a CEO for a local supermarket chain. Still, I think we better investigate this further and try to find another reas-"

"Hell, Logan, you _serious_? – Excuse me for pointing it out so bluntly, but: you really are one sappy little idiot if you need to 'try and find a reason' for the guy to go all birdie. Honestly, man. Do I need to spell it out for you? Starts with an M. Next one's an A… – N – T…"

They all had thought an Alec not talking had been a scary thing, but this version of him is freaking them out even more.

Joshua has seen him like that before, Cindy has; and so has Logan, too.

This Alec is dangerous.

Suddenly he gets up from his chair and steps up to the whiteboard. Pulling the marker out of Logan's still outstretched hand, he starts to draw some lines, leaving the others to stare at him in awe.

"You _did_ listen to Mole's little speech, didn't you? He said it all – it's all _here_." He taps the board hard with the tip of the pen, once, twice, until Joshua comes up to gently grab his wrist and make him lower his arm again.

"It's all there. We _knew_ this could happen, right? We've always known that Manticore spread everywhere like a friggin' virus infecting the whole damn country. It'll never die. And this… – we're just collateral damage in their very subtle attempt at bringing themselves back into our minds. Max and I were nothing but their way to inform the whole transgenic community in TC not to mess with Manticore, not to believe they are free for one fucking second of their lives. Fuck this! You can't help Max like this! _You are not helping her_!" he shouts angrily, bangs his flat hand against the whiteboard, hard enough to make it crash to the floor with a loud thud.

He leaves, too quickly for his still damaged feet, making Med wince with the pain he must feel and yet denies.

* * *

When Max opens her eyes after what feels like a long time, she is relieved to see and hear none of those strange and yet familiar people that scared her so unnaturally all the last times she opened her eyes to the world. In this one sweet and silent minute she has to herself, she finally finds a moment to go back in time, back to the day she got shot, and tries to piece together the last seconds before the world turned black on her.

She saw Alec, felt his skin warm against her face. Looking up to him, she saw his face, clearly outlined against a cold, gray sky, his eyes searching hers…

He hadn't said one word, and the one thing she wants to hear now is his voice. No matter the words, let it be one of his usual smartass remarks, anything, if only she could hear him now.

Unbidden tears welling up in her eyes she turns her head to the side, seeking comfort in the contact of her cheek and the sheets…

… and then she sees him…

* * *

_Yeah, I KNOW, not very subtle, this, and, um, a bit rushed? Confused?_

_… Don't I suck, huh? (:_


	9. finally

_Let's see, little Max-Alec scene, anyone?_

* * *

Alec stands at a distance, leaning against the wall no more than a foot away from the open door, arms crossed in front of him, not casually – rather protectively. Max has learned to tell the difference long ago…

Her eyes are searching his, prompting him to lock gazes, and he does, silently staring at her, not making one single move toward her bed.

Her lips – as if moving of their own accord, giving her away – curl upward in a smile. Gradually, a slightly lopsided grin appears on Alec's no longer expressionless face in answer.

Only then does she know that it was no weird dream, no illusion those people forced into her mind with their little lasers and needles and…

She is indeed in a hospital, Terminal City's infirmary more like, but still… She is safe now, after all this time she _is_ safe, and if this place is real, her friends, too, must have been. All along. Poor folks, she must have scared them as much as they scared her, but how was she to know?

"Alec," she finally says, wrapping her tongue around his name lovingly this time, tasting its flavor. No frantic calling for him necessary any more, no whimpering in fear and desperation.

He is _here_.

She smiles on, even though her facial muscles are getting tired and start hurting. What is this sweet pain compared to the one she had to endure before?

They never made her see _him_. She had craved for him, even for his mere image in her head, the tiniest shadow of it, but they had flooded her brain with images too horrible, too gruesome to dare recall voluntarily.

He stares at her, smile long gone. He looks so forlorn, for once not managing to shield the pain mirrored in his dark eyes.

"Oh, Alec…" Max whispers, her smile turning into a grimace, her brows moving upward as her eyes fill with tears. "Alec."

It was the litany of his name she had repeated over and over in her exhausted mind that has kept her sane, she is sure of it. And now he is here, real, his image can no longer be taken away from her, or flooded away, out of her desperate grasp.

Not anymore.

Slowly, Max reaches out for him with one hand as far as the restraint on her wrist allows her to and beckons him to come closer, take her hand in his.

She needs to touch him, feel him, feel the texture of his warm skin.

She needs him.

Tears are already running down her face when he finally does come closer, seemingly against his better judgment for his moves are slow and rather hesitant. His hand reaches her first, his fingertips softly grazing hers, then following her fingers upward, until entwining his with hers, palm eventually touching palm.

"I missed you so," she chokes out, silently begging for him to break his silence.

His thumbs trace the trails of tears down her face, his hands rough against her smooth skin, the simple touch more pleasurable than she could have hoped for. He leans down, kissing her forehead gently, remaining bent over her, taking in her scent as he allows her to take in his…

"Please, Alec, tell me you're okay," she whispers, her voice not much more than a breath against his skin, "Tell me it's over now, that everything is going to be alright again…"

* * *

Oh God, I wish I_ could._

I'm so sorry…

* * *

Mole is pissed. Again. It seems like being pissed at one thing or the other is becoming a serious habit, and he is not talking about being a little grumpy as in _not all of us need to run around with a stupid grin on their faces 24/7 just in order to look easy-going._

Well, he is not. Easy-going. And so what the hell, if easy-going means losing Alec without seeming to be all too bothered…

Logan shrugs apologetically and points down to his legs, "Honestly, I tried, but the exoskeleton is giving me a little trouble lately, it simply wouldn't allow me to catch up with him. Come on, Mole. I'm what you call an _ordinary_, Alec is an _X5_, even without my little problem I'd have had a pretty hard time catching up with the guy…" He takes another step back, trying to evade the other one, who's coming ever closer, his face only an inch or so away from Logan's. "And I did report back to you right away…"

Mole growls lowly. Granted, Cale did inform them about losing Alec instantly and there _is_ an annoyingly loud sound coming from the man's legs, but then, his weird legs – or that thing he uses on them – always make annoying noises. Besides…

"You didn't have to volunteer for going after him!" Grinding his still smoldering cigar further into the ground he turns around again, starting to loudly scold himself. "I should have known it was stupid to allow an ORDINARY to meddle with our affairs, but NO! The STUPID LIZARD messed it up. Fuckin' GREAT!"

And then he suddenly starts to run, leaving a somewhat startled Cale behind. The hated transceiver already in hand, he tells the guys back at Command to inform the staff at the hospital not to let Alec visit Max. If that's where Pretty Boy is headed.

Well, Mole is pretty damn sure he is. Even this extremely hopeless specimen of an X5 won't be stupid enough to take on his and Max's tormentors alone now that he knows they are Manticore.

"He won't," Mole states loudly, the words sounding hollow to his own ears, though.

Mole has to run faster. Better to reach Pretty Boy in the hospital, where he'll surely be wise enough to keep his big mouth shut for once – especially after his self-imposed muteness of the last couple days – well, better that than having to send out a friggin' team to find him when he's already out on a one-man-mission. Alec is an outstanding soldier after all, and given the right cause…

Mole doesn't even want to finish that particular thought. Better hurry…

* * *

"Well, my dear friend, how are you faring?" The voice of a man reaches Ames White through the balky receiver in his hand, a voice that makes him bite down hard on his bottom lip and nearly crunch the glass he is still holding in his outstretched hand.

"Conrad."

"So brusque today, Ames? You are more like your father than you think. Who would have thought… Well, let's not speak of him now. We're both glad he seems to have vanished from our beautiful little planet, aren't we, Ames?"

Ames lets the man talk, fighting his urge to slam the receiver down on the table in front of him. But he can't afford to draw any attention to him now, two minutes before the meeting with his superiors is going to begin…

"Be that as it may, I wasn't calling to exchange pleasantries with you, Ames. I simply wanted to remind you not to mess with the subjects involved in my little project. Of course I have said this often in the last few days, but I will not tire of repeating my warning. You will stop your manhunt for 452, for 494, and all other X-series. In return you are free do whatever you like with the remaining creatures Manticore has created. If I should hear that you are not adhering to our little deal…"

"I am, I will," White hurries to assure the man on the other end of the line connecting them for now, a line he'd more than gladly sever.

"Good to hear that, my friend. But don't ever forget that I can easily wipe out the whole of your little _cult_ just by snapping my fingers."

With that, the line goes dead, leaving White pale and sweating, facing the expectant faces of the Senator and a few others.

He never thought there could be a more dangerous threat to the plans of the Conclave than 452. The option he had mulled over in his head for a few days already starts to manifest itself even further after this latest phone call. Maybe he should give it a try after all…

Besides, could this really get any worse?

* * *

Max's clouded eyes implore him, plead with him, and it pains him to see that his silence is worrying her, making things even harder for her. With his fingers he wills away the creases furrowing her brow, only succeeding for a short moment.

No use.

"Please, Alec. Just one word. Say you're 'alright,' even though I know you're not, call me a bitchy bitch, just… please… _say_ something…"

Tears roll down her beautiful face, a face he so wishes to see happy again, or scrunched up in that look she gets when she's mad at him…

"Just _one_ –"

"He can't."

Both look up, alarmed, and see Mole standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Max grabs Alec's hand, almost crushing his bones, her grip is so painfully strong. And he knows she's only trying to assure herself that Mole is really Mole, no illusion, no threat, just good old grumpy Lizard-Man.

"He can't Max," Mole repeats, his words painting a perfect look of incomprehension on her face.

"What?"

Her gaze seeks Alec's again, but he averts his eyes. He can't face her now…

"Alec?"

* * *

_Someone better move their asses and do something about this mess soon, don't you think? Maybe some people are in need of a little pep talk?_


	10. make

_On we go… but be warned dear people: this one was bugging me quite a bit..._

* * *

"No," she says, "no," not understanding Mole's words one bit.

"No." Denial.

Her eyes swimming she tries to make out Alec's face, but everything is blurred by her tears, tears she angrily orders to stay unshed, stay put right where they are.

"It's something those – um…"

Alec suddenly stares at Mole, a silent warning that doesn't need any further explanation.

_Don't tell her, yet._

Well, but someone has to, right? Besides, Alec remaining silent with no apparent reason surely worries Max more than the explanation. X5s, sometimes they are just so useless… Mole growls lowly in obvious frustration, watching Alec's head droop, dreading Mole's next sentence.

He does feel sorry for these two.

"It's something that's been done to the both of you, Max. If he so much as says one word to you, you'll turn all 'perfect little soldier' again, following some orders they put in your head. His voice functions as a trigger –"

"I don't…" _understand_. "Why would anyone…" _do such a thing?_

_You know why, Maxie… Manticore's always been creative in finding ways to make people suffer uselessly… well, what we'd call useless, anyways… People _are_ like that…_

Mole winces, unwilling to go through all this a third time. He would leave this to Pretty Boy, definitely, were it not for his nasty little handicap…

Slowly he walks closer toward his CO lying on the bed. Max looks a little less pale than last time he took a peek at her, but she still does look a bit like death warmed up. He'd tell her she looked like something the cat dragged in if it weren't for the cat-parts in her DNA. Plus, he'd never liked the ordinaries' use of animal-related metaphors and proverbs to express something not exactly nice.

"You almost look normal again," he thus eventually says in an attempt to start the tough talk on what he considers a light note. "Although I'm not sure 'normal' is such a desirable thing," he murmurs, grabbing a plastic chair and sitting down on it, close to Max's bedside.

But just when he has started delving deeper into the serious matter of Manticore's resurrection – or full-on return, more like – Alec suddenly disentangles himself from Max, who only reluctantly lets go of him, and walks out the door rather hurriedly.

"Uh," Mole makes, blinking and turning his head from Max to the door and back again, "Excuse me, I'll better –"

"Make sure he doesn't harm himself, or anyone else?" Max finishes his sentence and leaves him to nod in confirmation, dumbstruck for a moment before he finally manages a short "Yeah."

She stares up at him, and he knows that she's already able to make sense of a lot of the things those Manticore bastards must have put her through.

"Go…" she then says, "I'll still be here when you come back. – Manticore, huh? Should have known… Go. Just – don't let Alec do anything… stupid…"

"Max, we're talking about Pretty Boy here, remember?" Mole grumbles, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

The first smile he discovers on her face after_… a long time_.

* * *

The sun shines down on Terminal City's streets, which are still wet from last night's heavy downpour. But its rays don't reach the assembled people down in the dark heart of the transgenics' refuge. There, artificial light ensures that they see what needs to be seen: Sketchy's pictures, a map stuck up on another board, right next to the whiteboard showing Logan's diagram.

They are still discussing how to proceed, Command now filled with yet more people because Dix has thought it necessary to order a few teams to meet with them and decide on a tactic ASAP.

This is serious business: TC's future, the free transgenics' future, and the future of all those who are not as lucky as they are, who remain Manticore's pets and don't know freedom, this all is at stake, and the previous capture and torture of their two leaders has only been the beginning of it…

Waiting for Mole to return, Dix has taken it upon himself to step in as some kind of _Fourth_ in Command – after Max, Alec, and Mole – if a post like that even existed, Dix has never given much to learning all the names of the various military ranks in existence.

Mole called Dix only about an hour ago to tell him he had it all under control – meaning Alec has not yet managed to get himself captured or killed by running off to hunt his tormentors down and avenge the injustice that had been done to Max and himself.

His friend also said he'd be back as soon as he finished telling Max everything they had found out so far, a task for which Dix doesn't envy the guy at all. Telling Max something like that when she and Alec are this close, are finally getting rid of the 'faked' part in their until recently for some unaccountable reason faked romantic relationship? Not a good thing.

Dix feels Logan nudge his shoulder, thus drawing his attention to the expectant people in front of him.

There were a lot of them, and Dix clearly is not comfortable with talking to huge crowds.

"Dix?" the ordinary at his side whispers, when Joshua comes up behind the two as well and sniffs the air distractedly. Dix is a little irritated, and when his hands holding a couple of thickly lined papers start shivering, it is not exactly making this all a whole lot easier, either.

"Shall _I_ address them?" Logan offers, but he doesn't look too convinced of the idea himself. After all, he is not one of them and there are a lot of transgenics in TC that'd rather he not meddle with their affairs too much.

Damn, Dix would love to accept the man's kindness just this once, though, and is about to do so when suddenly Josh pushes both of them to the side, barking out a short sound to get everyone's attention.

Dix and Logan exchange glances, admittedly surprised at the canine transhuman's sudden initiative.

Joshua clears his throat loudly and starts talking, haltingly at first, never having been good at talking in long and elaborate sentences, but as soon as he's gotten everyone's attention, an ever larger number of eyes staring at him, he gains more confidence, his speech gets more fluent, leaving his two friends by his side stunned.

They haven't seen this side of Joshua before…

* * *

Mole curses loudly, then tries to suppress his anger before confronting the X5 who just walked out of the main entrance of the infirmary, not once reacting to Mole calling his name repeatedly.

"What were you thinking, Alec, coming here?!" he snarls out, grabbing the other one by the shoulders, forcing him to lift his head and look at him.

"What if –"

"What if _what_, Mole? I had inadvertently _said_ something?" Alec shoves Mole away and resumes walking, which seriously pisses the tall transhuman off. For once thanking his lucky stars that Alec's feet are still too sore to allow the poor guy to do much more than creep along, he hurries after him, and grabbing him by his left arm, makes him spin around, suddenly peculiarly tense.

You idiot, Mole reprimands himself for having approached a transgenic who was tortured only a few days ago in such a blunt and rather thoughtless way. Lifting both arms and taking a few steps back in a gesture of surrender, he ensures Alec that he means no harm, is unarmed, posing no threat. He sighs. Seeing Pretty Boy like this, too messed up to even trust his friends, makes him angry; and sad.

He should probably apologize for his rash advance, but he is Mole, and Mole doesn't really do apologies.

And, that aside, he is also quite sure Alec would hate being the recipient of such an apology, anyway.

"Alec. You are not going to do something stupid, are you?"

The X5 simply stares at him and snorts in pained amusement, raising an eyebrow, and flaring his nostrils. But he doesn't say anything.

"Alec?! You are not going to go and seek revenge, not in your current state. You are not fit for any kind of mission, certainly not for this one, understand?" Ignoring the other one roll his eyes in contempt, Mole continues, "You are traumatized, Alec. You _are_. You're kidding no one but yourself here. – Would you allow a traumatized soldier to go on one of your own missions? Huh? No, you would _not_. And neither will I. You'll stay here, and that is that. Stay away from Max, too, for the moment. You're not doing her or yourself a favor by visiting her… You –"

"Shut UP! Just lay off, _man_! You think I don't know that? You think I'm stupid? You think this is easy? You don't know half of it! You haven't seen what they…" Alec suddenly chokes, stopping himself right there, heavily breathing as if he'd run a mile on those damaged feet of his; and the force behind his words startles Mole enough that it makes him fall silent for a moment.

Alec runs both hands through his hair in agitation, not looking at the transhuman, turning away from him again. And yet he doesn't make one move to leave, stands rooted to the ground, thus scaring Mole a little.

"Then _tell_ me…" he eventually dares prompt his friend, whose lips curl upward in a frightening caricature of a smirk.

"Yeah, like anyone'd wanna hear that," Alec says in answer, his voice sounding eerily sober. He slightly shakes his head in emphasis, wipes one hand across his face, and walks off.

One more word from Mole might push the other one too far. He can see it now, and lets the other one go this time…

* * *

"Do you think it is fair that there are more of us still caged and tortured into ob-obedience out there? Do you think now that we are free we are no longer in – in danger? Remember there's still White, White and evil breeding cult Familiars. We have never been free ourselves, and we never will be if we don't do everything to – to 'figure this bitch out,' for Max, and Alec, for ourselves, for everyone who ever – suffered because of Manticore, who ever got imp-imp.. uh…"

"Impaired," Logan whispers softly, not even looking up. He doesn't want anyone to think Joshua needs prompts to be able to complete his speech. Because he certainly doesn't. Logan could have never done a better job of it…

"Who ever got impaired," the big fella gratefully accepts his friend's help and continues on, nodding to him once in appreciation of his help, "and for those who _died_ because of it. For Annie… – for Biggs…"

"For Cece," Dix inserts when seeing his friend falter, tears blinding the big guy, memories welling up inside of him, memories he can no longer control.

"For Tinga… for Ben," Logan dares add.

"For Stix!" "Cal" "Rig" "Kone" "Bane" "Sara" "Lu" "Mark"…

Stunned at the impact of his words Joshua stands and stares into all the faces turned toward him, faces set in determination, eyes sad and yet hopeful.

They will never give up. Never.

He sighs when the voices die down, their attention still unbroken.

"Last time, little fella only had help of a few – a few friends when burning down Manticore, and Manticore back now to hurt little fella, hurt Alec… Going to – to – to" Getting ever more agitated, he starts stuttering again, and falters, struggling for words.

Dix and Logan eye him worriedly, then exchange glances again, trying to make a decision whether it might be necessary to help the big guy, to take over from here.

But right then, Joshua sees Alec enter Command like a shadow, remaining close to the door, staring straight at him. The big fella's shoulders straighten again with regained confidence when Alec locks gazes with him, the expression on his face unreadable to anyone but Joshua.

"Other-Manticore going to hurt all of us eventually; break us, destroy us. If we don't fight Manticore, Manticore will win. Max gave everything for our freedom, now it's time for us to give her something back in return, make her alright again, make 'Max and Alec' alright again. Save Max. Save little fella. – Not allow Manticore to add more names to the list…"

He is done.

No words left.

Joshua sees Alec leave then, hands shoved deep into his pockets, head not held as high as usual, and, unnoticed by the cheering crowd that – strangely – seems to have multiplied since first he started talking, he, too, leaves Command, following his friend out.

* * *

Max already dressed herself in clothes she found in a nearby drawer, her own things: a comfy sweater, a pair of black jeans, even a base cap she can put to some good use hiding the bandage around her still nastily hurting head. She is sitting on her bed of the last – however many – days, legs dangling, while she tries to fight off a sudden wave of dizziness and the ensuing nausea.

She has to leave the darn infirmary ASAP, of that she's sure. She has to figure out what to do about that freaky trigger bitch with which those bastards want to ruin her damn life.

How is she to go on like _this_, huh? With Alec forced into muteness whenever she is around him, or whenever there's only so much as the mere _possibility_ she might turn up any second and hear him speak? Turning all Manticore on him and the others in the process…

How is he to live when he can't talk? He always does, it's his mechanism of dealing with tough shit, right? It's…

… crap!

This is so not gonna happen. She so isn't gonna let them mess with her life ever again. Not anymore.

She is not gonna let them dictate with whom to spend her life. Not now that she finally made a decision, finally found her place at someone's side – at Alec's.

They destroyed what she had had with Logan, had made it impossible for her to be with him, but she won't let them destroy what she has with Alec, this delicate relationship that neither of them quite knows how to deal with, for it has the potential to hurt them more than anything ever has before…

And they _are_ breakable…

Inhaling deeply, she slowly lifts herself up off the bed, testing her feet and, finding that they carry her satisfactorily, she tiptoes to the door. She checks the hallway, her sudden appearance quite considerably startling the poor guy sitting on a chair in front of her room, thus making it easy for her to take him out with only one well administered hit to his head, a hit that makes him lose consciousness instantly.

She checks the hall again, wondering who else Mole might have ordered to guard her room. Not seeing anyone else, though, not a single nurse paying her much attention, she then makes her way toward the back entrance.

No one to see her leave.

Alec may not be able to talk to her by using actual words at the moment. But they both know military sign language, and they have great friends.

Enough to give those bastards hell...

* * *

Max is already exhausted beyond her strength when she reaches the backdoor and slips out of the building unseen. She should be worried about the fact that it was so easy to escape from a hospital crowded with transgenics, but she is too grateful for the fact that their seeming negligence allowed her to get out to give it much thought.

She needed to get out of there, out of the place that reminded her too much of institutions such as Manticore. Or of the place she spent the last couple days at…

Those images. Logan, Cindy, Joshua… So unlike the people they really are, and yet it felt so real, still does, and it confuses her. Scares her.

Will it ever stop?

Sitting down on an upturned trashcan for a few seconds to catch her breath, she starts shivering with cold almost as soon as her already tired muscles relax again. Hugging herself against the cold wind, she suddenly hears someone's approaching steps and turns around, squinting a little at whoever this might be.

But the man she sees now standing only a few feet away from her, long coat tails flying in the breeze, is the last person she expected to meet in the middle of TC...

"452. Good to see that you're up and about again…"

"Like you'd care, Ames."

* * *

_Well, it would help sometimes if I knew what I was writing _beforehand_. But no…_


	11. me

_What can I say? Nothing much… just go on and read if you like, and thanks for doing so…_

* * *

"As sweet as usual, 452… Head bothering you at all?"

Ames White is surprised at how easy entering this freak-infested territory they call their "refuge" has proven to be. He has to suppress a short laugh at the thought. If he'd known that before, he'd have invaded the area way earlier, which would have spared him a lot of trouble, and – if you wanted to put it like that – in a way it would have spared this particular X5 some trouble, too. Being dead and gone _is_ said to help with getting rid of problems, after all…

"Fuck you," the female says, eyes burning into him like hot coals, and yet he can't wipe a smile from his face. A smile tinged with regret.

For once, X5-452, who he happens to have sought to eliminate for such a long time, who finally stands right here in front of him, obviously not in her best shape, and with none of her little freak friends anywhere close by, for once this female – his personal nemesis – would be _easy_ to take on, to _kill_… and he has to let this precious opportunity pass.

For now…

"Swearing really doesn't suit you much, 452. It's still regarded unbecoming in a woman by many, you know? Although, of course you are not exactly a 'woman,' now are you?"

Max snorts in contempt, not rewarding the Familiar's rant by getting angry and retorting in like manner as that is clearly what he is aiming for…

She isn't sure she'll be able to physically take him on in her current state, what with her body still weak from the torment and the days in the hospital. Days she spent lying immobile, her consciousness captured in her burning brain; the horrible illusions playing on in her mind, clouding it most of the time not having helped much with that, either.

She has only just begun to manage shoving them away from her, the cloud only having started to lift at the exact moment she finally saw Alec again…

What, about three hours ago? Two and a half? Not quite the desirable amount of time for full recuperation. Not even considering her transgenic make-up.

And now this. White, currently starring in the role as evil guy in her sorry excuse for a life…

She doesn't know whether she even _looks_ fit to fight, but going by White's relaxed stance, she seemingly doesn't.

Perfect.

Max bites down on the soft inner side of her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. Now what? She has been careful not to let herself be seen by anyone, but maybe someone has already found the poor unconscious guy she dragged into her room? Surely they must have noticed by now that he is no longer sitting in front of her room doing the job Mole assigned him with…

Still, she's always had to fend for herself, has never relied on _anyone_; and she is not going to start with that now. She'll rely on herself as usual, will fight him alone if need be…

Thus, in an effort to brace herself for whatever is to come, she tries to slow down her erratic breathing, only gradually succeeding, though.

At least White seems to have come alone…

"Has this nasty wound," the Familiar points to her head, mock concern written on his face, "impaired your ability to speak? Now, that's what I'd call a strange coincidence, seeing as your little watchdog 494 seems to have a few problems in that department as well." He grins, for a few seconds enjoying the way her nostrils flare in sudden anger. "Oh, I'm sorry. Sore spot? – Anyway, actually I've come here to offer you a deal today, concerning a shared enemy we seem to have – "

"Oh yeah?! So there is actually _some_thing I have in common with an invertebrate, you say?" she scoffs, rolling her eyes, "What kind of deal would I wanna accept when it's coming from someone like you, though, huh?"

So that's why he hasn't jumped at the chance and attacked her, yet. A deal? Warily eyeing him, backing away a little until she feels the cold metal of the trashcan underneath her fingers, she takes a firm hold on the edge of it and waits for a good moment in which to throw the thing at her opponent. Not a very soldier-like way to fight, maybe, but then, she's always known how to fight dirty. And sure as hell this guy has, too.

"So suspicious, 452?"

"See, usually I would gladly listen to my favorite freaky breeding cult member offering me some kind of dubious deal, but right now I'm just not in the mood, okay?"

White tilts his head, even this little movement annoying Max beyond words. What does he want? Why is he here? And why, for goodness' sake, haven't the guys at Command seen him strolling into Terminal City like he owned the friggin' place?

"I'd think about it first before declining."

"Sure you would…"

White enjoys this next part, he can already feel the words rolling on his tongue, little treats he'll throw her, making her crave for more. Oh yes. He likes this part already.

"Not even interested when I tell you there's a way to get rid of that little – _inconvenience_ of 494 not being able to talk to you?"

Max's eyes widen.

* * *

Joshua has to run to catch up with Alec, who has left Command well before him, but in the end it is not difficult to do so. Alec still walks quite gingerly, his not following Med's orders to rest his feet not exactly helping with the healing process, in spite of whatever advanced healing mechanisms his genetically enhanced body might be equipped with.

"Alec!"

The X5 doesn't turn, but Joshua notices the slight shift in Alec's stance that tells him his friend has heard him all right.

"Where's Mole? Mole not with Alec?" Joshua eyes him worriedly while slowing his own pace enough to match the X's. But the other one suddenly stops in his tracks and stares hard at the big fella.

"What? You're worried, _too_, that I might just walk off and do something stupid? – Yeah, of course. We're speaking of 494, the wayward X5 who always manages to get his sorry ass into a tight spot, so why not assume he's on his way to do exactly that now, just as usual." His tone is harsh and slightly bitter, but his face doesn't give anything away, whether he is upset, or being sarcastic, or…

"Uh – no. Alec. Not – not that, uh –" Alec's words render the transhuman speechless only for one short moment which he needs to decipher the other one's well-guarded facial expression. Joshua has never had difficulties in making sense of the guy...

Alec still hurt. Not easy to talk to. Bad memories…

Joshua's newly gained fluency in speech won't be coming back to him this time, he knows that.

But no quantity of words, no grammatical correctness of sentences would really make Alec listen to Josh now, and that knowledge makes the big fella wince in heartfelt pain.

Max and Alec. Never easy.

"No?" Alec bites out, jolting the big fella out of his musings, and turns away, continuing to walk down TC's streets, hands still deep in his pockets, but his head held high again. A slight change, but Joshua notices…

He is heading toward the hospital…

"Alec go see Max?"

"I'm not going to _say_ anything to her, alright? _Dammit_."

There's no use in talking to him when he's like this. Alec doesn't want to talk so Joshua won't make him. He's too smart for that…

... and he trusts the other one enough to let him go alone. If Mole thought he could do so, Joshua wouldn't force the matter, either. He trusts Mole, too.

He trusts his friends…

* * *

"You…" Max falters, unsure of what to say. She doesn't want to give herself away, but White's casually spoken words intrigue her. How come he knows so much about the whole business if he is not an integral part of it?

But maybe that's just what he is trying to tell her…

"I'll help you get rid of your problem, and in return –"

Oh, this is gonna be interesting. What does he think he can ask of her?

"All ears, Ames, just spill" she prompts him, her fingers stiffening around the trashcan. She would have to be quick, really quick, for White surely has a gun and however many other weapons more suitable and dangerous than a friggin' trashcan…

But first she wants to hear the rest of it…

A chance rising up in front of her, not graspable yet, and maybe never…

Hope is such a sweet thing.

"I'm waiting…"

He sighs theatrically, rolls his head until his neck creaks loudly, and stares at Max again, holding her gaze. He grins, an ugly expression in his not displeasing features.

"Interested after all, are we, 452?"

"Okay, you had your chance. Now, if you'll excuse me…" Max says, pretending to get ready to leave in order to indicate her unwillingness to stay much longer, never once loosening her hold on the trashcan, though.

Of course she knows that she could never really leave just like that…

"Alright, alright. So, here's the deal: I'll help you with that little communication problem of yours and in return you'll help me get rid of our shared problem, also known by the name of Conrad Solomon."

There's triumph in White's glowing eyes, and it is that gleaming trace of emotion more than anything that eventually makes her see the connection between that unknown name and a shocking truth.

Conrad Solomon.

Manticore.

Her tormentor. Her new enemy.

The new evil in her life, the old not yet defeated, still standing strong in front of her.

A new name already added to the long list…

* * *

Max shifts her weight from one foot to the other, utter exhaustion suddenly threatening to make her pass out right here and now.

It's not gonna happen, she has to fight it, and fight it hard. No place for weakness in times like these; she's X5, goddammit! She is X5…

Manticore. Conrad Solomon, the man who is responsible for all this. But why, and how…

Eventually getting a grip at herself again, she leans against the trashcan, actually disconnecting her hands from the metal, bringing both arms up in front of her chest to cross them in a defensive gesture.

"So how do you know the man?" she then queries, accusation in her tone. "Why would I trust you when you and that guy are probably working hand in hand on this one, secretly enjoying your perfect little show here…"

"Aww, 452, if that were the case you'd already be dead by now. Shouldn't you know that it has to be a serious reason for me to actually let you live when I could so easily eliminate you now? Well?" Ames asks in return, instead of answering her question. Typical, of course.

But she doesn't get the chance to inquire any further for right then someone else suddenly enters her field of vision.

Only a few seconds ago, she'd have been glad to see him, but now something about his presence here chills her to the bones…

* * *

She sees it happening before it does…

She wants to call out, to say something, but she is too weakened, too slow, her senses not at all functioning as reliably as usual.

No.

It happens so quickly, Max's eyes can barely follow the action.

* * *

Alec, seeing White supposedly cornering her, blurs forward and attacks the startled Familiar.

Despite his injured feet he is quick, quick enough to kick the man's gun out of his outstretched hand, breaking his arm in the process.

Not quick enough, though, to evade the smooth and shining blade of a knife that suddenly comes up out of nowhere, incising the skin of his torso, parting the flesh easily until with sudden force shattering against his ribs when his opponent rams it deeper into him.

He feels stars explode in his eyes, but no real pain, not yet.

He stares at the Familiar, both men holding onto the shaft of the knife, neither of them allowing the other to let go, to move the thing.

In or out.

* * *

"Alec!"

How he wishes he could really hear her…

Finally he feels his arms go numb, feels White let go, and he does find the time to wonder why the guy doesn't simply kill him off now. It's not necessarily a fatal wound, yet, though deep it may be…

But White looks him in the eyes, slowly removes the blade, and turns around to leave Alec standing there, starting to sway dangerously, ready to give in to the feeling of vertigo enveloping him.

Max is already rushing to his side, he is aware of that too.

He is startled by how quickly it all happened.

He had been on his way to visit her again, to apologize for having left earlier. Wordlessly maybe, but he knows other ways of communication. Manticore did teach him a few useful things after all…

He had been in a bad mood, really, angry at himself, at the despicable things that had been done to Max – and yeah, to himself as well, although he does try his hardest to forget those parts…

He blinks and stares up at her, something warm and strangely bittersweet bubbling up between his lips.

Blood, of course.

His stupid mind is already playing tricks on him…

"No Alec!" she calls out, he can hear the words echo in his head. No, Alec.

* * *

Oh God… Of course he couldn't have rightly interpreted the scene playing out before him, Max backed against the wall, White right there in front of her…

White, who now wipes the stained blade of his precious knife against one leg of his pants and says, "Call me, 452. Oh, and you better clean this mess up quickly, or else there won't be much use in me telling you how to eliminate that nasty little barrier between the two of you…"

He walks away as if he doesn't have a care in the world.

And maybe he doesn't, for it all lies here in front of Max. Bleeding.

"Oh God, Alec. Where did he stab you?" she asks, fear in her voice, and she hates herself for it.

Nothing she can do about it, though.

She is afraid…

For him. Again.

"Where?" she asks again, but of course he doesn't answer, his eyes imploringly staring into hers, searching for something, something…

… he cannot ask for.

She finds the wound, which seems to be a clear, if nasty cut. Deep. Surely hurting like a bitch. As if they hadn't been through enough already…

It's bleeding quite profusely, but if she presses both hands down on it, hard, she should manage to keep him from bleeding to death right here before her eyes.

She'll have to administer some kind of staunch that'll enable her to leave him long enough to run for help without him bleeding out in the meantime.

But for now, it's her fingers, her palms, pressing ever more firmly down on the wound, until he sees him stifle a cry, just barely managing, his face turning sickly ashen in a split second.

Scaring her.

"What is it, Alec? You've gotta tell me! _Alec_!"

* * *

But of course he can't tell her that the pointed tip of the darn blade is still embedded in his flesh, digging ever more deeply into some vital parts of his body with the increasing pressure her hands exert on the wound…

How could he tell her when it would mean subjecting her to demons yet unknown?

* * *

_Ugh, I basically worked my ass off to get this out _today_ rather than later so it better not be a complete disappointment to you… (:_


	12. see YOU

_I know I kept you waiting, and sorry for that. Let's continue already, then…_

* * *

People keep saying the sky is gray, or blue, sometimes tinged with orange, pink, purple – veils of clouds highlighted by a setting sun.

It doesn't look like that to him. Not today.

Today the sky is mostly white. A cottony tone, a color that has a texture, depth. There are holes in it where the white is lighter, and parts where it bundles up, turning a thick and slightly grayish off-white.

And then, of course, there's Max's face blocking it all out by her bending over him, imploring him to speak to save his life…

He smiles drowsily, the increased loss of blood already taking its toll. She's only making it worse by trying to save him.

Hell, if his life doesn't suck right now…

Grabbing her arms with his trembling hands he tries to make her stop, tries to shove her hands away.

She is too cute when she frowns like that, annoyed by his actions even now.

"Come on, Alec," she cajoles him, easily resisting his weak attempt at pushing her away, "To hell with what they said, okay? It's not helping anyone if you're dying because of this, okay? So open your stupid mouth and _talk _already! I can't let you die here, I… - shit, Alec! – _494_!"

* * *

"So now we're all back to numbers, are we?" Alec said, a little amused, and maybe a little annoyed, too. After all he _had_ gotten quite used to the name Max gave him.

"If it's the only way to make you listen," Max ground out through clenched teeth and shot him a glare that clearly said 'One more word and you're dead.' At least that's what it was supposed to say. But with Alec… She sighed resignedly.

They had eventually arrived at the tiny airport where White had met the mysterious man in a tux a couple of times, and – armed with a slightly blurry photograph of both men – the two X5s were on their way to approach one of the ground staff now in order to try and gain information by legal means, for once. By _asking_…

Thus, Max basically whistled a flirty sounding "Excuse me?" at the guy they had chosen to ask and flashed her sweetest smile at him.

"Don't you think you're overdoing it a little?" her companion commented, flinching at her tone, then smirking, which earned him another glare.

Max only grabbed his arm tighter, digging her fingers into him. "Shut up," she said mechanically, no longer looking at him then.

The tall guy in front of her – Antwon Lewis, going by the name on his badge – looked down into her face with professional curiosity.

"How can I help you, Ma'am?"

Alec nudged her lightly and whispered, "Heard that? _Ma'am_… Well, if that doesn't sound a lot like respectable older lady…"

"Alec!" she snarled out irately, quickly composing herself for Antwon's benefit when returning her attention to the man, though. "Um, I know this will sound a little peculiar, but… my brother and I –"

"_Brother_?!" Alec whispered, only for her ears to hear, and stared at her. "You couldn't have come up with something better, huh? Brother…"

Max felt him tense and inch away from her ever so slightly, too little for the other one to notice. She didn't dare look at him then, already knowing that he was shutting her out behind his mask.

"Shh, Alec," she hissed out so quietly that even with his enhanced hearing he'd have difficulties catching every word. All the while she kept smiling sweetly at Antwon, who was starting to look at them a little bemusedly, and quite understandably so, too, she couldn't help thinking.

"It's called going undercover, alright? I'm pretty sure you're familiar with the concept?" she whispered to him anyways, both trangenics now pretending that this little exchange was just some little sibling moment, before Max finally turned her full attention to the towering guy in front of her.

"Well, Antwon," she sweetly, said, "You don't mind me calling you Antwon, do you?"

"Uh…"

Flashing him another disarmingly charming smile, she went on, "The problem is… – stupid thing, really, but we were on a plane with these two gentlemen only a few days ago, and… – oh, this is so embarrassing, but my brother here..." she leaned in to the guy conspiratorially, making Alec feel increasingly uncomfortable. "See, he was chatting to the one in the tux here when we were waiting for our baggage and –"

"To keep it short and simple," Alec suddenly interjected impatiently, "What my _sister_ is trying to say: the guy has her suitcase now and I accidentally took his. So we were wondering whether you could help us out here, give us a name, a phone number, something…"

Max thanked him silently for not having come up with a stupid story about her suitcase being full of sexy lingerie and the man expecting nothing but folders of boring paperwork to be in his.

Another version of him might have done that. But then, maybe not; and never when out on a mission in the public, anyways… Alec was no idiot, and he wasn't mean.

Oh yeah, this man had indeed grown on her. She was even starting to defend him – against _herself_.

Only then did she dare flash him a quick glance and found him looking at her. She couldn't help a smile while Antwon started explaining to them that, unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to give out any information on other customers of the airline.

Of course not.

And yet she didn't mind. Not now…

* * *

When Med arrives back at the hospital, Original Cindy in tow, she hasn't expected to come back to this MESS.

All the way from Command to the hospital she has assured Cindy that Max is on her best way to full recovery after her head trauma, and, going by Mole's report on the influence Alec's visit had on her patient, Max really _must_ be doing extraordinarily great after the last few days in which she barely seemed to be herself, not knowing her friends, not making much sense at all, except for the repeated calls for her mate.

And now this. A furious Ro confessing that someone messed up pretty bad this time. Max no longer in her room, the poor kid Mole had forced to stand guard by her door out cold in her bed…

"What?!" Cindy stutters out, shocked by the news, and stares at Med, "My boo's got a freakin' head wound and she's managin' to sneak out behind yo' sorry genetically wired-up asses? Tell me you ain't serious! If that girl's gonna kill herself out there I'll blame all o' you personally, and nobody ain't gonna survive Original Cindy's wrath, then, I tell ya, so Max better be okay!" she exclaims before storming out of the building, all set to find her boo herself if those damn transgenics were too stupid to watch her properly.

Med makes to follow her, but then decides she better inquire whether Ro thought of sending search teams out ASAP, first.

Of course he did. This is not his fault, as she should have known. But then, whose is it?

Hers.

And it has been all along. She shouldn't have come to Command, to pretend she is one of them now, for she is always only Med, the Manticore-trained medic who is not good at much beyond the walls of the infirmary.

It's what she does, helping people, saving them.

But then…

First she let Alec go against her better judgment, allowing him to overstress his only slowly healing wounds.

And now this: Max is nowhere to be found, running around with a head injury that has barely started healing. Med hasn't even ruled out the possibility of some remaining brain damage so far. Not yet.

If anything should happen to her there'll be no one else for Med to blame except herself…

* * *

He stood there, waiting for them to leave, waiting until he could no longer see them, waiting on a little while longer even then, until he finally saw them emerge out of the building, out of the camera's reach.

Only then did he take a small cell phone out of his pants' pocket, speed-dialed her number, and waited for her voice to echo through to his ear.

"Yes."

"Ma'am, someone has inquired about the boss a few minutes ago. X5s by the looks of them," Antwon Lewis said.

"How many of them?"

He had known this would peek her interest. "Two, Ma'am. A male and a female. Possibly distracted by some kind of romantic interest in each other, so it should be easy to…

"Thank you, Lewis," the woman's expressionless voice reached him, cutting him short, "Send me the surveillance tape ASAP, and I'll inform Conrad about that new development…"

"Yes Ma'am."

* * *

She watches his bloodstained lips move around the word, 'no," never actually saying it aloud, as if his vocal cords were cut and bleeding. His hands touch her arms again, more weakly this time and yet still strong enough to momentarily make her fingers slip off of the wound she has been trying to staunch so desperately these past minutes.

No. One word only; and then numbers.

She looks closely at his lips so as not to miss any ofthem, trying to figure out what he wants to tell her.

Four – Five – Two.

And she snatches her hands away as if burned…

_If it's the only way to make you listen_.

Her own words. Redirected at her…

She has made a mess of this, has apparently made a mess of Alec's insides… And all this just because she hasn't paid enough attention, or else the hints would have never escaped her. The look in his eyes, the words his lips formed, the strong grip of his hands on her arms, the fidgeting. She hasn't seen it for what it really was, for what it _is_, thought it was the agony speaking out of him, and not his plain wish for her to let go.

Let go.

Max kisses his forehead, apologizing silently under her breath, then scrambles up in order to run for help as quickly as her weakened body will allow.

But the world chooses this exact moment to tilt…

* * *

They left the airport behind, staring up at the bright sky above them, not saying a word until they reached their car.

Max realized that she was still holding on to Alec's arm and, embarrassed, she let go of it, allowing him to get the keys out. She didn't look at him; he didn't look at her…

Having called him her brother, when she should have known better… And this was not even about him and her, it was about something else altogether, something dark and heavy. One of the lingering gifts of the past forever shadowing their future lives…

"So, what to do now, with time on our hands, in a fun place like this?" he suddenly queried, jolting her out of some half-baked thoughts.

She sighed, not able to meet his gaze, memories churning up inside of her, threatening to surface.

"Any ideas? Max? – Come on, at least let's try not to die of boredom, alright? Motel, maybe? Get some food first, and some sleep…"

"Alec…" She scowled, but why, she didn't really know.

He startled her by not starting the engine, by remaining sitting in the driver's seat, completely still, and she turned to face him, saw him looking at her in a way that made her feel both uneasy and yet not at all.

"What?!" she asked.

"You alright?"

They faced each other, neither of them saying one word.

Lingering gifts of the past…

"Why wouldn't I be?" she retorted, suddenly angry without any apparent reason. She didn't even know whether she was angry at him, or herself. Herself, more like, as usual.

"Whoa there. Just asking…"

She wanted to be mad at him, wanted to shout something at him, hurt him, see his face fall, but why, she honestly had no idea.

Because she was a bad person. Because she hurt people, it was what she did. Hurting them, killing them. That woman had been right; she _was_ poison.

Right when she heard the engine finally roar to life, she turned a little in her seat again and stared at him until he looked back at her.

Not saying anything, forcing her to make the first move.

"It's not gonna work, you know?"

"What isn't?" He feigned ignorance. Max couldn't really blame him, and still she did.

"Don't give me that, Alec. You know what. Us. I mean, that thing between us…"

"Oh. That. – No, course not…" He didn't sound at all like he actually meant it. And she was glad for that. "Well? Motel first, or wanna go and find some place to get a decent burger, – if they have those here in little Retard Capital…"

She sighed again, biting her lip.

He frowned, clearly worried now, despite his best efforts to mask that expression, too. No chance there, she knew him too well by now. It's what forcing herself into a fake relationship with him had done to her. She had to smile at the thought, and suddenly remembered Logan's question of a little while earlier, his half-thought assumption…

_Did Alec do something? If he hurt you..._

And her answer…

_Alec would _never_ hurt me_. Period.

But what if she hurt _him_?

"No, I mean, it's not that, either," she suddenly blurted out, staring out the window now, no longer able to bear that look in his eyes. A look she'd need Joshua to translate for her…

"Alec, me and you… it's just not –"

"Gonna work? Got it, Maxie. It's okay, really…" his voice strangely soothing, and even that was irking her terribly.

"No, it isn't! You don't… God, I don't know what this is, okay? And neither do you, but I wish we could give it a try, could just give it a try and see where it might take us. But we can't! Sooner or later one of us is going to get hurt, and by the looks of it it's gonna be you. I hurt people, Alec."

"Max…"

She ignored him, tears now freely running down her cheeks, starting to stain the collar of her jacket. "I hurt people," she then repeated, "They _die_. They… everyone close to me finally gets hurt or dies… they all leave. No wonder they don't trust me back at TC."

"Hey, this is not –"

"They hate me, and I can't even blame them. I… And when you and I, when – when we give it a try you'll eventually get hurt, too, and you'll leave me. Just like everybody else."

"I will never –"

"It's always like that. I guess I deserve it, but still, it sucks. So hard." Her voice sounded very small when she added a final, "I simply can't lose you, too, Alec…"

* * *

She will lose him now, she thinks, after all this, she will lose him now. Because the world decided to spin around and make her fall down ever deeper.

Staring up at the sky above her, she can't help but wonder at the peculiar off-white color. A landscape, upside down, painted above her head. Valleys and mountains, some a little lighter, nearly white as snow, others darker, like holes.

Why are people always talking blue and gray when speaking of the sky, when all she sees now is this whitish landscape?

And then...

_Call me, 452._

_He can't, Max…_

_Did Alec do something?_

… more white, so bright it burns her eyes… and after that: nothing…

* * *

"_No_. _Max_…"

* * *

Holding her face in his hands, he gently forced her to look at him, and look at him she did. He made no attempt at wiping away her tears, and neither did she.

"You won't. Lose me. Alright? You won't… – I'm your constant pain in the ass, remember? Not gonna get rid of me so easily, I'm afraid. You'll have to live with me a little while longer after all…"

Alec smiled at her, touching his forehead to hers, allowing her to feel the warmth radiating off of him, and the kindness of the gesture, the comfort it offered, made Max sob involuntarily.

"Hey, Max. _Max_… It's not your fault okay? It never was. They know it._ I_ do… It's alright…"

* * *

By the time someone eventually thinks of checking the entrance at the back, the sky has already begun to darken, a thick blue-black color seeping into every corner of it, until even the last remnants of light are swallowed and gone…

* * *

_I totally hate to tell you this, but the next installment will probably not be up before Sunday, or Monday… Really, I do apologize. I guess that's what happens when the story decides to become longer than I ever intended it to be. But seeing as this thing dictates its own pace, I didn't have much say in the matter… Just please bear with me..._


	13. , no

_

* * *

_

A warm welcome back, you guys! – But let's not waste time and get this under way already...

* * *

Darkness everywhere.

And darkness envelopes her, cushions her mind in soothing blackness. There are no frightening ghosts of images of friends dancing around in her head anymore, of people not quite acting themselves.

No pain, no fear.

* * *

He sits in the darkness of her room listening to her silent breathing, to the quiet beeping of the heart monitor. He stares at her deceptively peaceful face, wondering whether she will ever wake up to her own personality again.

He doesn't know…

For a moment his hand hovers over hers, the urge to hold her slender hand in his so strong that it costs him everything not to touch her, and slowly he takes his hand away, burying it in his lap. He clenches his jaw, inhales deeply, and forces himself to get up, to leave the room, let her rest, leave her be.

Leave her.

She is no longer the woman he once fell in love with, and yet she is, will always be. Even if she might never be the same again, if she overexerted herself too much this time, damaging her frail health beyond repair.

To him it never mattered. Who she is, _what_ she is.

She is Max.

And even if she'd wake up not knowing who she is, not remembering anything, maybe not even fit to care for herself any longer, Logan would not mind, would be there for her, would do everything for her, still love her.

Always love her, from the depth of his heart.

But it is not _his_ love that matters.

Not to her. Not like that at least.

"Friend" can be a harsh word sometimes…

Leaving her room, looking back at her still form, he wonders for the umpteenth time whether they ever really had a chance. He, the older, yet "ordinary" guy – even with his unusual way of life, what with his _Eyes Only_ missions, his "affiliation" with the transgenic cause – and Max, the younger woman, the test tube-created genetically enhanced super-soldier who spent her first childhood years in a secret military institution, who has seen so many more horrors in her young years than he probably ever will.

Things she's never really tried to share with him, apparently fully well knowing that he wouldn't quite understand, couldn't – even if he tried.

Yet, for a short time it looked like they'd get that chance.

Until another one entered the picture, someone who could – who _can_ – relate with her on a whole different level, one Logan has no chance of ever reaching.

It hurts, probably always will.

She is Max all right, but she will never be _his_ Max.

Leaving her in the darkness, not feeling up to waiting for her to wake up and call the name of that someone again, someone so distinctly not Logan, he heads out of her room, out of the hospital, out of Terminal City.

* * *

White tears at his tie, feeling like the thing will suffocate him. The Senator just called, and right after him: Conrad.

Clearly, this is not his day.

At least there is hope 452 might do the smart thing for once, and call him back. Hopefully not waiting too long, for time is running out.

The sooner Conrad's stupid Manticore facility is down, the sooner there'll be time for hunting 452 down – without having to fear the interference of yet another bunch of abominations that could easily be ordered to set out and kill him and all the other cult members any second now.

A voice suddenly jolts him out of his musings, asking, "Sir, has 452 called, yet?"

White turns around, seeing one of his men standing in the doorway, a young guy, standing there rather stiffly, his face a mask.

"No, Grant," he replies, tone level, not giving away his apprehension, "but she will."

"Sir, can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

Grant shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not quite daring to look at his boss, the man whose doings he never fully understands.

"What made you ask her for help? I mean – shouldn't you have – rather _killed_ her, given the chance?"

The poor kid probably hasn't expected him to explode at the question, but – suddenly feeling outraged at the other's daring to ask such a stupid thing – Ames does.

"What are you implying, huh?! That I – _knowingly_ – endangered our whole cause? By sparing her? – That I don't know what I'm doing here?! – Have you listened to one word I said in the last couple days? That no one – I mean NO ONE is to eliminate 452 until I say so?! Huh? We can't take Solomon Industries down ourselves, Grant. Or do you harbor hidden super powers that enable you to do more than I think? Are you a freak yourself, maybe? Well?"

"Uh…" the kid stutters, face slightly ashen now, contorted in real fear. But White doesn't want to hear an actual answer to his question.

"I said don't kill her as long as killing her means Solomon will be on our heels! Let the freaks terminate the freaks first, and then we can set out to kill 452. Got that? GOT THAT?!" Seeing the other one merely nod, obviously shocked into muteness, Ames adds a short, "And now get out of my sight," his voice calmer again, but the rage still coursing through him.

452 better call soon, or…

* * *

He doesn't feel any pain now, not in his feet, not where the knife slid through his flesh so smoothly he hardly noticed it in the first place.

No pain.

Only that of remembering to see her lying there like that, unconscious, maybe dead.

And the sweet pain of her name on his tongue.

"She's going to be alright, Alec," the voice of the doc is intoning, repeating the words over and over again, ignoring the fact that he had long again closed his eyes, his tired mind screaming for some rest…

… _oh God, so she might have heard him speak to her_...

And then he falls asleep again, his body demanding its overdue rest.

"She's going to be alright…"

* * *

Light permeates through her closed lids, coloring her vision red as unconsciousness makes room for consciousness again. One part of her is desperate to know whether Alec is alright, making her try her hardest to open her eyes. But she has to battle an unknown fear.

As long as she stays content just lying here, dead to the world, all those things are not real, haven't happened.

The bliss of not knowing…

But that is not really an option, and so she gradually returns to the world around her, and wakes to look into the gentle face of a stranger.

No. She has seen that woman before. A face untainted by the impact of what those people have done to her mind, a friendly face that doesn't trigger painful memories…

A friendly face.

The face of someone she doesn't feel attached to.

"Hey Max…" The soft voice of Med reaches her, her soothing tone fulfilling its purpose. Max stays calm and tries to remember the woman's name.

"M-med?" she eventually says and makes to prop herself up in bed.

"Yeah," the woman affirms, placing both hands on Max's arms and gently forcing her down again.

"Not so fast, you hear me? Not so fast. Do you know what day it is?"

Exasperatedly, Max scowls and shoves both of Med's arms off of her. "What kind of question is that? Shouldn't you rather be telling me what the hell I'm doing lying here?"

Inexplicably, the other one smiles down at her like she has some serious cause for happiness.

And Med does have a reason to be happy, for Max speaks coherently, and seems to be her usual, easily-annoyed self. All's well so far…

"Do you remember what happened? That you were attacked?"

"White…" Max says, acknowledging that indeed she does remember. And then her eyes go wide in sudden fear and, despite herself, she grabs the medic's arm. "Alec. He got – he – is he okay?"

"Shh, Max, it's alright, he's alright –"

"But I – I, oh God, but the tip of the blade must still be in him," Max stutters out, not even aware of the firm grip Med has on her shoulders.

"Max…"

" I _hurt_ him – I – I didn't – I pressed down on the wound because I thought – but the tip of the –"

"Max! Will you listen to me?!" Med has to stop this. This girl does like to hurt herself a little too much. Max obviously likes to wallow in the things that went wrong, but Med doesn't see a reason for that.

After all, is _she_ still moping about the things she messed up?

Oh hell, and so what if she is! Doesn't mean her patient is allowed to do so, too.

"He's gonna be okay again, you hear me? He's gonna be alright again."

Something about the way Med says this seems to work the magic and calm her fellow X5 enough to make her stop fighting and fidgeting. And for a short moment Med expects her to say something in answer, to question her sincerity, to beg to be allowed to see him. But all she does is stare silently into Med's eyes.

* * *

"Any progress?" the man asks, shuffling through the files that had been handed to him only minutes before.

"Actually, Sir, this is what I've come to talk to you about."

Conrad Solomon looks up at the woman, genuinely interested for once. "Oh?"

He takes her in, her petite form, her dark hair framing the too pointy face, her business suit lending her the air of a highly respectable and rather stiff person. But that is Elaine. She could have been gorgeous with the right kind of clothes. And, well, with the right kind of face…

But Conrad doesn't care too much for perfection. Perfection is his business. The creatures he is working with are perfection; he doesn't need perfection in his love interests, as well.

After all these years, perfection has started to bore him.

"Well," Elaine goes on, stepping a little closer to her boss's side, showing him one of the newest pictures that have been taken of the pair. "Apparently, the project doesn't quite work out as planned. The bond between these two still is not severed, as it should be by now."

This, then, _is_ proving to be interesting after all…

* * *

Mole feels like being part of an exodus out of TC, he feels like abandoning this city he initially never intended to stay in for long. And grudgingly he has to admit that it pains him to leave this place now, without knowing whether he'll make it back there.

Inhaling deeply once, he finally motions for those behind him to follow him out of the sewers and into the darkness of the streets, slowly, gradually, so as not to startle anyone into actually noticing the eruption of trangenics out of the ground.

The first teams are already on their way, already nearly there, ready to take on whatever – whoever they might encounter.

Mole chews down on his cigar, silently cursing his luck for making him stay in Terminal City with all the other sorry idiots, for making him feel loyal to a cause he never knew to be his.

He and the other transhumans should have left long ago. But no, now he is on the way to fight not only for his own freedom, but for the freedom of others, too, fully well knowing that those others are ordered to fight him and his fellow TC-inhabitants until the bitter end.

There are no happy endings with Manticore stories…

He spits his cigar out, and, grabbing his gun in both hands, he eventually steps out of the darkness of the tunnel and runs, sensing Joshua close behind him.

No place for the big fella, really.

But then, there is no place for any of them, nowhere.

And that's why he's doing this.

* * *

Two days later, and 452 still hasn't called. His superiors aren't exactly making things easier by insisting that he hurry to eliminate her, and his temper is rising by the minute.

If 452 really thinks she can play her little games with him, he'll have to show her how serious this is.

And he _has_ ways of showing her…

* * *

When Alec wakes up to a bright day, the light tingling his nose, he turns his head to stare straight into Max's apprehensive face.

A beautiful face.

Max.

He smiles at her, lifts one hand up to touch her cheek.

He nearly says her name out loud, choking it down at the very last moment. But then, maybe it is already too late…

* * *

"Hey," she says, smiling at him, gently touching her cool hand to his feverish brow. "You scared me…"

_I'm sorry_, he mouths, his eyelids fluttering with the effort of staying awake.

Still, he won't speak.

White.

Max has tried to reason with herself. She can't trust a man like Ames White, she can't. She knows better than to fall for his empty promises.

And yet…

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, laying her head onto Alec's shoulder, placing one arm gently across his chest, careful not to hurt him more. "I'm sorry. – For everything."

She will have to call White. She'll just have to do it. There is no other way… besides, hasn't Med told her that Mole has already organized a well-planned mission? That a large number of transgenics has set out to get rid of that man Solomon and destroy his version of Manticore?

'_S alright._ Alec smiles weakly, a shadow of his usual smirk.

Max raises her hurting head again, scrutinizes him. There is something there…

The pain just won't go away, and the void in her head grows, threatens to swallow her.

She is afraid.

Her hand finds his, seeks reassurance in the touch of fingers to fingers, of palm to palm, as the void is growing.

"See? I told you, you and I – it's never gonna work…."

Another tear.

She is crying way too much these last couple days. But even knowing that can't make her stop…

His hand in her hair.

The emptiness in her mind.

His face.

White's deal.

Terminal City.

Manticore…

* * *

"452, you have your orders, eliminate 494 and report back to base as soon as you can; and make sure you eliminate any witnesses."

* * *

When next he looks up into her beautiful eyes, he doesn't see her anymore, doesn't see _Max_.

Her eyes, unseeing, hold no trace of her.

She doesn't seem to be herself.

"Max?" he whispers, not much more than a breath.

And yet he has said it…

* * *

You won't lose me, he once promised her.

But what if he lost _her_?

* * *

Mole growls lowly.

There it is. Solomon Industries, not much different than the place he knew as his home for more than a lifetime. Not much different at all.

Let's get this over with now, he thinks, one last time checking his firearm.

This is not the first and not the last Manticore twin.

It will never be over.

Except, it might soon be over for him.

There are no happy endings for transgenics…

* * *

"You have your orders, 452…"

* * *

_Thank you guys for being this patient. Weird chapter, huh? (:_


	14. echo

_Huh! So much for this being nothing but a SHORT little story… sorry for that… hope ya enjoying it anyways… (:_

* * *

The past.

Not hers; well, not exactly, anyways.

Another version, and yet not much different. Not at all…

She sighs, fear and something close to – regret? – clawing at her consciousness. How can she be doing this?

But she's only a witness, right? Only following orders.

And yet it doesn't feel right.

It _doesn't_…

* * *

Max. Her name. Max…

She can't fight the darkness, can't fight the void filling her mind, clouding everything over.

It's as if her body is acting of its own accord, following unknown orders, making her do things she has no control over, turning her into an automaton, a soulless soldier.

No.

Too tired, too weak, her head nothing but pain, and empty blackness…

As her fingers dig deeper into soft tissue, making the other one tense underneath her paining touch, she loses the fight.

She loses…

* * *

Not many people have remained behind, guarding Terminal City, but the staff at the infirmary has, every single one getting prepared for the worst case scenario: large numbers of soldiers coming in wounded, or dying.

Or dead…

There is not much time for anything but thorough preparation, but when Med sees that pretty ordinary walk up the aisle, heading straight over to where she is standing examining some patients' files, she can't help but stare at her, wait for her to arrive.

"So, sugar, how's my girl doing? Give a girl an update here, huh," OC says, smiling, hips jutting out, red painted lips parting in a charming smile, nearly unhinging Med's poor emotional defenses.

"She doing ah-ite?"

"She is. – As far as we can tell by now. No apparent changes in her personality, no memory loss, although she really needs to stay in bed this time. No running around…"

"You don't know what you're askin', sugar. This is _Max_ you're talking about… And her boy?"

"Her…?" Med stares at Cindy uncomprehendingly, the way the other one smiles at her making her blush involuntarily. Why, she doesn't know. Shyly, she shuffles through the papers of the files, no longer facing the pretty African American.

"Pretty Boy?" OC amends, then, finding it necessary, prompts, "Alec?"

That chick is one helluva sweety, OC can't help but think, her smile widening even more. Max is doing great, there is this fine woman right in front of her, what could be better at this very moment?

"Oh. _Oh_!" Med makes, slapping her own forehead, then grinning sheepishly, "He's better – he's – it's a bad wound, been quite a mess really, but he's going to be alright again. – Strong guy…"

"No shit."

"No, no shit…?" Med replies, earning a sincere smile from the other woman; and she is left to smile back at Cindy dumbly, all coherent thoughts vanishing in a haze.

* * *

There is _some_thing good about Max and Alec having been admitted back into the hospital, Mole thinks, chewing the end of yet another cigar he would never be lighting. Those two couldn't put themselves in danger here, by insisting on taking part in this mission.

_Mole's_ mission…

He sighs silently, only Joshua close enough to notice and shoot him a worried glance.

"Mole alright?" the big fella asks, one of his oversized paws calmingly grabbing the other one's shoulder. But Mole only grumbles lowly.

No need to worry the dog-man by admitting his apprehension. He relies on Mole to be strong after all, Josh does.

Everyone does.

Mole, the tough guy, not scared by anything, not worried about anything… and any_one_.

They trust him to be that man, trust him with their lives, and so he keeps his fear to himself, and the worry about what will become of them all if they should really have to fight fellow transgenics, have to kill them.

He wears his mask, chewing on his cigar so vehemently now that its protruding part drops out of his mouth and onto the ground.

He wears his mask, not allowing himself to worry about anything now, not to worry about the others' safety, about Terminal City, about Josh, about Max, and Pretty Boy...

Not about himself…

Checking his watch one last time, he raises his head defiantly, ready to take this facility down, to free those inside.

Like Max freed him.

* * *

Even in his current state, his mind clouded by some nasty drugs, Alec can still think of nicer things Max's slender hands could be doing to his bruised body.

Yup, definitely so…

Grabbing her wrists with his hands he tries to shove her away, to make her stop this.

Make her stop…

He remembers the look she gave him that day when disentangling her warm and naked body from his. A lifetime ago…

He remembers it all too clearly, is still unable to read it. Pleasure? Regret? Pain?

_Fear_…

The heat of her body, the touch of her moist skin.

Now of all times his mind plays this trick on him, now that her eyes are cold, and hard, and the only contact between them is that of her hand pressing down on his injured side, making him gasp, and claw at her arms.

This is not happening.

He stares up at her, disbelievingly, although her behavior isn't all that surprising, really. Manticore after all.

He stifles a laugh.

He's not gonna let them win, not gonna let them do this to Max…

… and to him.

Not anymore.

No fucking way.

It's not gonna happen.

* * *

The two women are still standing in the hallway, one shyly averting her eyes, the other scrutinizing her thoroughly, smiling all the while.

"So," Cindy finally breaks the silence, nudging the X5 next to her with a movement of her hips, "OC allowed to visit her boo now?"

"Yeah. Yes, sure, I – I'll bring you to her room…"

Huh! Med is mad at herself for sounding so… insecure all of a sudden. She's X5 after all, right? And it's not like she isn't in the middle of some really serious and dangerous operation here.

So what the hell? Why is she acting like this? Awed into behaving like a child. By an ordinary…

She can't help it, though, and following the other woman to Max's room, she suddenly stops dead when noticing that Max's bed is empty.

Again.

And by her side the ordinary's mouth falls open as she gapes at the deserted room.

* * *

They enter the fenced off area after nightfall, about 24 hours after they left Terminal City.

Their home, if ever they knew one.

Silently invading the dark territory in front of them, following orders they aren't forced to follow, they head toward the various barracks, guns at the ready, their lithe bodies weapons, too.

They know what is awaiting them, and yet they don't…

What if they really have to fight people just like themselves? Transgenics, transhumans?

Xs fighting Xs...

Nothing they have been trained for.

But whatever might be necessary to eventually free themselves of Manticore for good...

* * *

"Max," Alec says, voice even, hardly audible, yet strong.

"Don't. Do. This."

Max stares at him, out of empty eyes, her hands letting go of him, leaving him to still feel the searing echo of her touch while he tries to force his body to obey.

"Max," he calls her name although he knows she won't hear him, won't listen.

She's gone.

This woman hovers over him, undecided for a second – undecided about how best to fulfill her orders, probably, but still Alec can't quite fight the rising feeling of hope that bubbles up inside of him – despite the burning fire she caused to flame up in his side, despite that soulless stare that is distorting her beautiful features.

But when he suddenly senses her hands moving up to his throat, too close already, the soldier in him finally takes over.

As his strength is returning to him, a strength brought about by a sudden rush of adrenaline, he does what he has to do to save his sorry little life.

* * *

The place already _feels_ hostile.

Like a slumbering beast whose silence can't quite mask its dangerousness, Solomon Industries lies ahead of Mole's troops. They are nearly there now, at the core of it, ready for attack.

Mole eventually signs for his team to follow him into the building situated right in the middle of the premises, in the middle of this enemy territory. He signs for them to follow him into the darkness of the heart of this Manticore-clone state, not knowing what is awaiting them.

Manticore is never unprepared, no subsidiary bases would ever be, not after the first of them had been taken down.

They will surely meet strong resistance.

Maybe too much of it.

Might be over soon, one way or the other.

If Mole was one for praying – for believing in any kind of God in the first place – he would pray now.

If only…

* * *

_Eliminate 494, eliminate possible witnesses, report back to base, return to base…_

"Shit, Max! Stop!"

Something about that. This voice, like a longed-for sound reverberating against the walls of her empty skull, echoing on and on and on...

494 is fighting her, strongly, despite being injured, despite the pressure she exerts on his wound.

The IV… She tears out the IV in a swift movement, using the tube to strangle him.

No easy task, annoying, really.

And why does her head feel like stuffed with wads of cotton? Why is her body so weak, betraying her?

_Eliminate 494, eliminate possible witnesses, report back to base, return to base…_

"Max! Listen the fuck to me. _Max_!

* * *

They don't have to search for long, the ordinary and her X5 companion.

Following her intuition, Med leads the other woman to Alec's room, the only logical place to look for Max, and there they find her, see her bent over her mate's bed in an intimate gesture, her head close to his, her body shielding his from view.

But something's off about that picture, though Med can't quite put her finger on what that would be, until she hears Cindy quietly whisper, "Is that… blood?"

Alarmed, the medic raises her head and storms into the room, not quite knowing what she's doing.

* * *

He clings to her as she clings to him, clasping her neck with his hands, while the plastic of the IV tube is incising the soft skin of his neck.

He's choking, slowly, painfully.

But so is she.

He won't let go, and neither will she.

Ridiculous, actually; if their silent fight wasn't that serious.

He stares into her expressionless eyes, daring her to return his gaze, to _see_…

* * *

"Elaine!"

He roars out, making her name sound like a threat, and she cringes.

"Yes, Sir?" Coming up beside him, turning her full attention to whatever his finger is tapping on this time, she furrows her brow in disbelief.

"Can you tell me what this is?"

"Sir…"

"Don't 'sir' me, Elaine; aren't we past that already? – What. Is. This."

She looks at him, struggling for words. This man can still reduce her to the little school girl she once was, the girl who's afraid of the jocks making fun of her and her cheap clothes, her geeky looks.

"Well? Cat got your tongue?"

"It – um – looks like there are some… intruders enteri-?"

He turns to face her, his expression one of disbelief. "Intruders? Elaine, one could think you haven't been working for SI the last ten years… _Intruders_?" he repeats, then huffs out, "Troops, more like, soldiers! – And why for chrissakes hasn't your contact informed you about that, Elaine? Haven't my instructions been clear enough?"

"No, Sir, I mean, _yes_, they have… I –"

She feels her blouse clinging to her skin, glued to it uncomfortably. Her informant hasn't told her anything about a planned assault on the base, has only told her that finally, _finally_, the bond was breaking…

And now this.

* * *

The future.

Theirs. Not hers, not really.

She's not a part of all this, and yet she is.

_Now_ she is.

She can't do this anymore, follow orders, stupidly, unquestioningly, when all she has learned here is that kindness does indeed exist.

And love.

No breaking _this_ bond…

The past might be just this: the past. Their past. Her past.

The past, not necessarily the future…

* * *

She can see him now, his eyes, not giving away his feelings…

His lean body, warm and taut above her, beside her, close to her. Touching her.

He is so close.

The salty taste of his lips, his skin…

It's still there, has been there all along, buried beneath the flood of pain and horror, it has never left her.

That one image.

That slightly vulnerable expression, his face frozen, and his eyes…

His eyes…

Max.

Her name…

And as his eyes are closing, his injured body finally slackening, she remembers something else…

She _remembers_.

* * *

For one minute longer his grip is still strong, though maybe not as strong as it would usually be, for he has lost a lot of blood after all and is still weakened after surgery.

And yet he could have taken her on. If not easily, he could still have defeated her in the end, making her relent eventually.

But for the sake of her he is giving up.

It's over.

He's giving up…

* * *

"Alec?"

Nothing but a silent whisper as Med and OC are pushing her away from him, away…

The word's echo getting lost in the commotion.

Alec…

* * *

_Yup, "weird" is my middle name… _

_I might suffer from a boost of motivation to write more soon; you'll never know, though. We'll have to see. Truly sorry that this thing is stretching on and on and on…_


	15. of

_Anyone else kinda love the "Holy Tax Accountant?" - clears throat - ... alright-y, where were we? Yeah, Alec was having a few difficulties breathing lately…_

* * *

Open your eyes…

– to _see_…

* * *

"Oh my God…" Cindy whispers, staring wide-eyed over to where her best friend has shrunk against the wall, holding her hands up in shock like they are no part of her, then looking over to where Med is checking Hot Boy's vital signs.

What the hell just happened?

"Max, what…" lost for words she lapses into silence, incomprehension turning her mute.

What happened here? Max couldn't really have been trying to _kill_ Alec?

OC can only stand there, speechless, feeling useless watching Med busy herself with an attempt at resuscitation. Unsure of what to do, she simply stands and stares until she notices that Max has begun to shake uncontrollably, her knees close to giving way. She hurries to her friend's side, wants to hug her for that is all there is to do now, really, there are no words for what she doesn't know, doesn't understand…

"Max…" she eventually says, raising her arms in an attempt at showing the other one she means no harm. The girl really seems to be out of it, and OC wonders what those Manticore bastards have done to this poor girl again.

It might prove to be too much this time…

Seeing Max put both arms up in front of her face – hiding or shielding it – Cindy doesn't know which, makes her grimace, highly aware of the terrible state her friend is in, highly aware, too, of Med fighting for Alec's life behind her…

"Hey boo… hey, it's me, Cindy… Shh, Max…" she makes, slowly advancing, but Max doesn't allow her to come any closer, just shrinks away further from the contact of OC's hands, shrinks away, no longer able to hold the sobs at bay that shake her tiny frame ever more violently now.

It just might prove too much – and what's a girl to do 'bout that?

* * *

What has she done, oh God, what has she _done_?

There's still this impulse to hit Original Cindy, who is standing in front of her, looking down on her worriedly when she lets herself sink to the floor.

There's still that impulse. She can still hear the order echo on inside her head.

_Eliminate 494, eliminate possible witnesses…_

All still there. That look in his eyes, it had meant nothing to her then, nothing. But now…

What had she done? It's so hard to think through the sobs escaping her mouth. She can't _think_.

Her head hurts, but it's Alec, who is hurt – whom _she_ hurt. She tried to kill him, they had made her do it – had made _him_ do it – they…

She hadn't been strong enough, had fought so hard – and had lost nonetheless, had done it again.

_Again_.

And what if OC and that girl Med hadn't made her stop?

What if it was too late, if Alec…

She closes her eyes, trying to force the tears back inside, trying to force the images to leave.

Leave.

But they linger…

Friends that are no friends, strangers that are more real than anyone else, and the pain in his eyes…

… the silent forgiveness.

And love…

…while she was trying to take everything away from him, trying to kill him, to extinguish the light in his beautiful eyes. And she had simply stared on, feeling nothing… – and he had seen it, had seen _that_ when…

Curling up, her back pressed against the cold concrete of the wall behind her, she shuts herself off of everything, not hearing, not seeing anything. But she can't stop knowing…

… and feeling…

* * *

_An experiment…_

That's what Elaine had told X5-1503, anyways, when she had briefed her on her mission; and it wasn't like this particular experiment had seemed to be all that unusual, either, so that 1503 had asked no questions.

After all, hadn't X5s 1437 and 1489 been subjected to that same "treatment," too? After they had somehow managed to raise an insurrection at SI about two years ago?

Using this treatment outside of the boundaries of the SI premises had of course been a more than risky way of dealing with the aftermath of Manticore's downfall, but there had been no talking to Solomon about his plan.

He had simply thought it was the perfect means to make the free transgenics relent eventually and come begging to be admitted into his new little pet project she likes to call "Manticore II Industries" whenever he's nowhere around to overhear it.

Elaine tries to unstuck the soaked fabric of her blouse from her back while waiting for him to finish his phone call, staring transfixed at the multiple screens in front of her.

So many of them have come, so many…

What does that mean? What does it mean for her; what does it mean for the future of Solomon Industries, for their transgenic soldiers?

Solomon had insisted on informing them all about what happened to Manticore, let them _know_, had made it sound like a bad thing even for the likes of _them_; and not one of "his" creatures has ever tried to join the rogue transgenics of Seattle afterward.

They never have, not even when sent out on missions.

Manticore was Manticore – and SI was SI.

But now Elaine wonders whether that still holds true.

1503 has not yet reported back at the usual interval after the last call informing Elaine that both the female and the male would seemingly rather get harmed than let their cursed bond break. X5-1503, always so reliable, so dutifully following every order, her best soldier, this X5 has not known the Seattle transgenics were planning to invade SI? She has not known that they sensed the danger they were in? The danger of being forced back into submission, into losing their freedom? She has not known all that?

Elaine can't stop the hysterical giggling from escaping her, just can't _stop_.

Apparently, Conrad's plan isn't working out too well, the images grinning back at her from the various camera screens confirming her worst fears…

But that's what happens when you're experimenting a little too wildly…

* * *

_See_…

If you look closely enough, then maybe you'll finally _see_…

* * *

"Alec. Alec?" Med is calling out as soon as she is sure he's actually breathing again – if barely. She slaps the poor guy's cheeks, slapping really hard while at the same time digging the knuckles of her other hand into the thin layer of skin covering his sternum, daring him to open his eyes, to breathe a little less shallowly.

This was a close call. Really close. "Oh God," she mutters inaudibly, wincing involuntarily at the words, "I screwed it up…"

She catches her upper lip between her teeth, biting into it in compensation for her fear and shock.

If she had known all this… – if she had _known_…

"Alec, come on, open your eyes for me, come on… I know you can do it… Don't wanna scare us, do you?" Her voice sounds commanding, yet is soft enough to qualify as soothing. A contradiction in itself, but then, that's what she herself is: a contradiction.

"Breathe, Alec, do it for Max," she whispers, unheard by anyone but maybe him. "She needs you now…"

With a short look over her shoulder, she calls out to the other two, letting them know he's alive.

He's alive, but just as easily he could be dead by now.

And yet he wasn't.

He _wasn't_.

"Hear that, boo?" Cindy's beautiful voice. "Yo' Boy's gonna be as good as new, you'll see. Ain't never been a tougher one you called ya man, boo… - well_ I_ called ya man, anyways…"

Med sighs, her knuckles still painfully kneading Alec's sternum. Come on, soldier, she silently prays, don't do this to me, come on…

* * *

Conrad sounds more than slightly annoyed when he calls.

White has been pacing to and fro in his makeshift office in yet another of those stupid military-issue tents that have housed his "office" on and off over the last few months.

Few?

Sighing at the thought, blaming his father and his stupid plan of saving the whole goddammit population of this planet, blaming that bitch 452, even blaming himself for the tight spot he's been in for too long already, he resumes his pacing, receiver held loosely in one hand.

What does this man want now? It's not like the old man's constant threats are in any way helping in making things easier for White.

No, you can't really say they are…

"Conrad," he therefore hisses out no less annoyed than the other one, preparing himself for yet another string of curses and threats directed at the cult – and even more than that: at him personally…

"What the hell do you think you are doing Agent White?"

_Agent_, now is he? What has become of the "affectionate" use of his first name?

"Excuse me?" Ames says, pleased to hear his conversational partner being so agitated.

"Don't do this, White. You have no idea of how powerful an enemy you have gained yourself with that! No fucking idea!"

Ames is a little puzzled, even starts to feel a little uneasy at the cold and sober tone underlying this new threat.

"Conrad, I don't know what you're talk-"

"Befriending 452 and her little freak state inhabitants? Persuading them to build an army and invade my company's perimeter? _Mine_? Thought you'd be a bit wiser than that, Ames. But apparently, I have been mistaken. – No one's messing around with my properties, though. _No one_!" And with that said, Conrad obviously smashes his phone down, for all Ames hears from then on is a low crackling noise.

Like a child, Ames thinks, grinning to himself, no longer too worried about whatever the man might have up his sleeve. Like a child pouting because his favorite toy has been taken away from him.

So the freaks have organized themselves and are taking on Solomon Industries even though 452 has not stormed into his office, yet, to claim what he has offered her?

Well, better this way, maybe. Having to tell her that the only way to get rid of her little problem is to make 494 talk and see what it does to her…

Might have been fun to watch her face, though.

* * *

He doesn't really want to open his eyes, doesn't want to see.

But he can't not do it and so he forces himself to return to the world outside of his head, return to whatever there is to see.

What he does see eventually is the face to the voice, the face to…

He inches away from her, as much as possible, he inches away, raising both tired arms up in order to keep her at a distance and tries to get up. But his body won't let him. Not now, not so quickly after he just escaped death another time.

But he can't stay here, knowing; he can't.

"Stay the hell away from he," he manages to rasp out, each sound hurting like crazy, burning like someone poured acid down his throat, but there's more he needs to say, no matter the pain – no matter… "Stay the hell away from Max…"

His gaze challenging, staring on darkly, coldly.

The pain is so real. Being rejected, over and over again. Knowing no place he could call his home, nowhere, with anyone.

Sometimes it's better just to be 494 after all. Not Alec.

Names can't shield who you are. _What_ you are…

And as she stares back at him – the fallen soldier she could surely take on easily now if she wanted to – he can see something, and it hurts even more.

It hurts.

* * *

That image just won't go away.

Lingers…

* * *

_An experiment, and a new chance._

That's what this all was supposed to be about. A new chance for whom, though? Clearly never for her, for them.

Always only for him, for Conrad Solomon.

For Manticore.

And now?

What about this chance?

* * *

_I'm glad I already established that I have a wacky imagination… hope this chapter didn't scare you off now, or anything… (:_

_Blame it on the effects a specific season's third episode had on me, if you like… (:_


	16. your

_Second to last, this... oh yeah, getting there eventually... (:_

* * *

… and then Max remembers one thing.

Only one

someone

Too late now…

Too late?

* * *

The absence of sound fills the room with a suddenness that startles Med even more than her patient's actual words of only a second ago. She stares at him, sees a fierce fire glint in his eyes as his cold and dark gaze lingers on her.

Somewhere in her brain it registers with her that even Max's desperate wailing sobs have ceased to pierce the heavy silence enveloping them.

Med winces. She is shocked at the amount of anger and pain a person's eyes can contain, _Alec's_ eyes can contain. She is shocked at the fact that she can relate to it so much.

She despises herself at this moment, more so than she ever did before, despises herself for envying him in spite of all his pain.

For he loves Max…

… and is loved back.

Although he may not know it now, may not see it.

She envies him, yes, even if love seems to entail such unending and unbearable suffering. But she wishes more than anything that she were allowed to feel that, too.

And as she stares back at him – the fallen soldier she could take on so easily now if only she wanted – as she stares back at him, she can see something, and it hurts even more.

It hurts.

* * *

They hide in the absent light; cloaked by the shadows they advance – on and on and on. They reach the first perimeter fence unheeded by anyone, and then…

There was no time for words before, no time, but now Mole wishes he had said something to them all nonetheless.

_I am proud of you, folks, no matter what. No one told us to do this; it was our _own_ decision… And I'm proud to be a part of this. It is an honor to be doing this with you, to be fighting by your side._

_An honor_.

He might have said that, had there been time.

And had he been good with words…

But he is not, and there had been no time.

Mole looks over to where the big fella is crouching down, trying to hide from view until a few X-guards have moved on. But they are Xs… No effective hiding possible.

So, let's get going, the reptilian transhuman thinks and – with his gun at the ready – he motions for Joshua to fall back behind him.

He is ready now, for whatever is to come. He is ready, couldn't be more prepared…

His head is empty, his thoughts stowed away in one dark corner of his brain; he is no longer worried, does no longer think about those who had to stay behind in TC, does no longer care.

Not now.

And as they are advancing further, a piercing alarm is heard howling through the cold night air, breaking the silence as huge searchlights eat away the shadows and douse the place in brightness.

"Let the fun begin," Mole mumbles out, for a second fingering the one Cuban he keeps stowed away in his pocket – ready to be smoked later.

Either the last thing he will do today – or in his life…

* * *

Cindy has scrambled up to her feet after having sat down by her best friend's side only minutes before. Max, still sitting on the hard floor, her knees protectively drawn up close to her body, is very quiet now, shocked into silence just like OC.

Alec's sudden outburst…

First Hot Boy seems to be this close to doom and death and Cindy has to work her ass off assuring Max that her boy ain't gonna die on her just like that, and then he finds the freakin' energy to practically yell at the girl that saved his pretty ass? Now what sounds wrong about that?

"Alec, sugar?" Cindy eventually managed to get out, her voice sounding husky and rather deeper than usual. She clears her throat and, eyeing Med who seems to be in some kind of stupor – poor chick, OC slowly walks over to where Alec is obviously fighting against his own body's weakness, attempting to get out of bed.

He is still glaring at his savior when OC reaches his side and gently places a hand on his already half risen frame. "Nah, sugar, ain't no wise move in your condition," she states firmly, and is admittedly a little surprised that Pretty Boy's hands aren't yet up at her throat strangling her for this bold attempt at stopping him from damaging himself any further…

"So, let a girl get this straight: you mad at who now? Huh? And what just happened here? Someone put the whammy on Max? Som- _holy crap_, say that ain't no effect of those –" she barely manages to catch herself there, not wanting to make her friend feel even more awkward and uneasy than he apparently already does. "Alec?"

But he only stares past her, looking over to where Max is still sitting with her back pressed into a corner. A wonder she hasn't yet run for it, Cindy suddenly thinks, looking from one transgenic to the other, her gaze lingering on a transfixed Max, who is staring at Alec now, never once breaking eye contact with him.

"Alec?" she says.

Only then does Original Cindy realize that Alec said those last words in full knowledge that Max would hear every single word. And yet Max is still sitting there, not trying to kill him.

Not this time.

Is it over now?

Or has it only just begun?

There's no knowing how badly those monsters messed with her poor boo's head. No knowing…

* * *

She has learned so much in only a short time.

Learned things she never dreamed of learning – of experiencing herself…

The meaning of friendship, so true and pure, of love – of being a part of something important. Not just following orders. There's more to life than that.

With a look of longing she lets her gaze wander over the three figures in the room with her and sighs inaudibly.

There's more to life.

And she screwed it up…

Too late now. Too late.

* * *

It all happens so quickly, two sides playing escape and evade with each other like it were nothing but a fun little game. Only this time, it is no game, not even a training session.

This is real.

Joshua finds himself running across the premises, seeking shelter from a volley of shots directed at him. He barely manages to save his hide, only suffering a minor shot wound – a mere scratch, really, where a projectile slightly grazed his leg.

Okay. Not bad. Nothing serious. Nothing like what they did to little fella and Alec.

Now, where's Mole?

The others?

"Dude, didn't they tell you that you transhumans are to stay in your barracks tonight?" a voice beside him suddenly whispers to him urgently, and Josh can only stare at the person to that voice in awed puzzlement.

"Uh."

"Not heard that we're being attacked by troops of those Seattle rogues?" the other one asks, a lean kid with glinting eyes and a shock of dark hair who pushes Joshua further down into the ground when another volley can be heard being shot in their direction.

"No offence, man, but you transhumans all look a lot alike so Solomon ordered you guys to stay in the barracks tonight so as to prevent unnecessary 'misunderstandings,' got that? – Shit, guess it's too late for that now. You'll better stay with me if you don't want to get shot by your own comrades tonight…" And with that the kid jumps up again, grabbing Joshua by the collar of his shirt and swiftly raising him up off the ground.

Dumbstruck, Joshua can only follow him, warily checking the premises for signs of his real "comrades."

Where's Mole? Or Luke?

"Joshua," the big fella eventually stutters out when the two of them have reached the walls of the main building situated somewhere in the middle of the whole complex. With their backs against the cold masonry they stand and wait, listening for any movements, for shots, for approaching footsteps, and all the while the kid is reloading his too tall firearm.

"Joshua needs to go find his own people… his own people need Joshua."

"Dude." The kid looks at him sympathetically, but he never lets go of his gun. Joshua wonders how old he might be. Not much more than 15. 16 at the most, and yet he is functioning like the perfect soldier. Just like back in Manticore.

"I'm sorry, but you can't be walking all over the place now. What with all the searchlights and the guards shooting at everything that's moving – no matter if they're shooting us or them – you can't go there now. It's crazy out there."

"I know. And that's why I'll have to do it. Do it for them. Do it for Max and Alec, too. Do it for my friends."

"Your friends?" The kid is smiling, perfect white teeth flashing in the dim brightness of the artificial light. "Dude, you're more hopeless than I thought. Friends… Not for us, man. Never for us."

"Yes. For us. Joshua – friends. You – you friends…"

"Nope, man, I'm a soldier, is all. No friends. Now let's get those intruders back to where they came from. They're not gonna mess around with our facilities here, can't turn this place into another anarchistic freak zone. – _Friends_…"

It's Joshua's turn to look at the kid sympathetically, and gently he pats the other one's shoulder with one of his big hands. "Joshua your friend, too. You'll see. No – no anarc- no freak zone…" And with that he suddenly runs away as fast as his legs carry him, leaving the kid to stare after him, a little bewildered and surprised.

But there's not much time for that, and so he turns around, and runs off, too, runs into the building, runs, until suddenly staring straight into the dark eyes of another transhuman.

* * *

"God, I'm sorry," Med finally whispers, breaking the peculiar silence, no longer able to bear the tension in the room, the tension that precedes an explosion. "I'm –"

"_Sorry_?" Alec says, his tone icy, his stare threateningly cold. He has managed to prop himself up in bed now, despite OC's gentle tries to keep him lying still.

Med can see fresh blood staining the bandage over his injury, the crimson color reminding her of other images she has seen. She has to avert her eyes, has to look away, and seeking refuge in Cindy's kind brown eyes, she wonders again what had made her affection for this woman grow so incongruously fast.

Her face breaks into a pained smile that the ordinary – bewildered, sure enough – reciprocates.

"Sorry? For what, exactly? Spying on us? Infiltrating Terminal City? Playing your part in your boss's plan – whatever that might be?" Alec hisses out venomously, his arms starting to shake with the effort of holding himself upright, but he is too stubborn, too enraged, to let it go now. "Sorry's not the word_ I_ would choose. I saw you there. I _saw_ you! You were _there_, you _knew_ what they were doing, and still you –"

"Alec," someone says, and Med is not even sure whether it is Max or Cindy…

"I never…" Med starts, but seeing the hurt expression on Cindy's face, her beautiful eyes suddenly swimming with yet unshed tears, she falls silent and gasps out in pain at what she has done.

And what she has lost…

She wants to scream.

* * *

One second.

One second in which he honestly still wonders why those transhumans aren't heeding their orders. Then it dawns on him, and with shocking clarity he understands and raises his weapon quickly.

But it's already too late then…

In shock he stares down at his chest, stares at the darkness seeping out of him, too quickly, and choking out a half obscured cry he sinks to his knees, sinks down, staring up again, up into the eyes of his killer. He hasn't even heard the shot…

And behind the killer – that Joshua dude; and the kid grins weakly, blood stained teeth turning his face into a horrible grimace. But he is not aware of that. He only sees his killer and that big dude.

"NO! MOLE!"

Joshua runs past the other one, the last few feet skidding on his knees until reaching the fallen kid.

"Friends, huh?" the kid says without accusation.

Just that. _Friends, huh?_

Joshua's face breaks. "Yeah," he rasps out. "Friends. Joshua your friend. You Joshua's friend."

The other one smiles on as he sinks into Josh's outstretched arms, smiles his sick red smile, until his body goes slack in the big guy's embrace, losing all tension.

And Joshua will never even know this friend's name…

* * *

Mole stares at the scene in horror, looks from the kid to his still slightly smoking gun, back to the kid, to Joshua.

And he feels more than sick to the stomach.

He knew it would be bad. It's what he had feared from the very first minute.

Still, it hit him hard.

He had killed an innocent kid.

A child… he had killed a child.

* * *

And as Alec stares at the medic, Max stares at him.

She sees it now. What she never saw before, or never dared admit she saw.

What neither of them dared admit was there.

_Is_ there…

She remembers.

It's never too late for that.

* * *

Standard American motel romanticism, rancid smelling carpet, dirty walls, barren atmosphere, and 70's style wall paper.

Sweet.

But they didn't pay that much attention to the small room's interior. As long as it had a bed, and a shower… They paid for it, and, a little rushed, went into the rented room, hardly containing themselves enough to close the front door before giving it another try – that thing that had been building up between them ever more strongly since first she had dragged him into her white lie.

Her tears – not forgotten. Far from it actually.

And what followed now – far from a heated act of love. A gentle embrace first, everything gentle, slow, achingly so.

Consolation…

They clung to each other like letting go would mean being alone forever after.

The image of two people drowning? Not so far from the truth.

Afterward, when she thought about it, Max actually smiled a small smile at the thought, for it sounded so much like something Logan might have said.

They clung to each other, tore at each other, never quite getting rid of the feeling of being alone anyway.

Always alone. Even then.

His lips on her mouth, skin on skin.

The salt of her tears on his tongue. His taste on hers…

Their eyes finally meeting, closing at the same second.

No seeing necessary when you could touch and _feel_.

And then the moment was gone, taken away from them by brute force, taken away…

His lips smeared with blood, grotesquely red, her arms behind her back, and a kick making her insides burn, tasers blackening her vision.

* * *

A child…

"Mole!" Joshua's voice, sounding so desperately urgent.

But it's too late already. Out of the corner of his eye Mole sees a horde of armed transgenics run up toward them – transgenics wearing uniforms with small emblems reading SI. Not their soldiers.

It's over.

There are no happy endings for transgenics.

Never were. Never will be.

"Mole and Joshua need to _go_!"

He does feel bad for dragging the big one into this. Josh should have never been here in the first place. Should have never…

Too late now.

"_Go_…"

He is hardly aware of his friend's attempt at dragging him away with him, dragging him off to God knows where.

A_ child…_

* * *

No seeing necessary when you could touch…

… and _feel_…

* * *

_Right. No matter how long I'll have to make it, the next one's gotta be the last chapter. Finally, you might say. If you feel like it: last chance for you guys to tell me how desperately you want a happy ending… or a not so happy one… (:_


	17. image

_So, here it is. The last chapter… Finally. You guys ready for it?_

* * *

But if you _couldn't_ touch…

* * *

Joshua is really worried now. Not only are those Solomon transgenics still close on their heels, but there's also Mole to worry about, who only follows along because Josh simply won't let go of him.

The lizard-man has to snap out of his stupor soon, or…

Josh can't even finish his thought, for right then half a dozen X-series soldiers start closing in on them from behind, too, thus cutting off their only escape route. Still holding onto the other's lapel, the big guy backs against the wall before letting go of Mole eventually and raising both arms in surrender.

He won't fight these people, even if they should fight him.

He'll wait for them to catch him, will remain passive throughout, doing it for those who died because of all this. Doing it for Annie…

Too many have died already; one more today.

At least one…

_Not allow Manticore to add more names to the list…_

That was the plan.

But having come here – as soldiers… That plan sucked, had done so right from the start.

Joshua winces at the plain truth of that fact as the first soldier reaches him, and he closes his eyes, hearing Mole breathe heavily right next to him.

And then he hears a shot ring out.

* * *

"Alec?"

She doesn't know what just happened, doesn't know _how_ it happened. But she knows that it has to be over if she is still here, still herself, still _Max_. Although she just heard his voice, his beautiful voice, if distorted by pain and anger.

She heard it, and in full conscience this time, too…

And yet she is not trying to kill him. Again.

She is not.

But the pain in his eyes…

That will never entirely leave.

Neither will the pain in hers…

Her sobbing has died down rather abruptly with the first note of his voice, his words having sounded vaguely familiar and yet so different.

Not directed at her this time, but at Med.

His demand _in_cluding – not excluding – Max… Stay the hell away from me. Stay the hell away from Max.

So he doesn't hate her? Maybe…

Slowly, but gradually, she lifts herself up off the ground. Her head is hurting like a bitch again and her legs feel slightly wobbly, but they do carry her. She stands in the corner of the room, warily eyeing the others and Alec, her feet rooted to the spot, her limbs frozen.

Did Med…?

Max's hands feel for the safety of the masonry behind her, the touch of her fingers against the cold wall assuring her that this is real.

As his gaze suddenly meets hers, as he studies her unblinkingly, she draws her shoulders up protectively and averts her eyes. She doesn't dare look at Alec, doesn't dare approach him, is not even moving one single step toward him.

Not even daring to ask him what he meant; Med – what…

And finally her face scrunches up of its own accord as tears run freely down her hot flushed cheeks, leaving little wet trails on her dry skin.

She feels so exhausted… so small… so…

What has she done…

* * *

"Med?"

It's Cindy who eventually breaks the silence, Cindy, who is not even aware that her hand has slipped off of Alec's shoulder, her arm now hanging at her side, slack and useless. She stares at the girl, momentarily forgetting the presence of Max in the corner, and of Alec who is pulling himself up even further, backing away in his bed, backing away from Med, away from Cindy, too.

"What does he mean?"

Cindy's voice is quiet, hardly audible in fact, but Med hears every syllable she says with acute awareness.

What. Does. He. Mean.

She inhales slowly, cherishing the one second in which OC is still in denial, still giving her a chance, although surely already knowing Med doesn't deserve as much.

For one stretched intake of breath the world is on hold…

* * *

If you couldn't touch…

But you _can_.

Remember what once was…

… what _is_…

Remember.

You _can_.

Touch.

And see.

* * *

Joshua doesn't dare open his eyes, no no no no…

But he's alive; he can even still hear Mole's breathing not far off. He, too, is still there.

No screams…

And slowly, slowly, he opens first one eye…

… then the other…

He stares straight into the face of a guy in a dark camouflage uniform, two small letters embroidered on his shirt. A gun is being poked into Josh's side repeatedly, but he doesn't dare shove it away.

"You."

"Uh," the big fella makes, turning his head to the side, to exchange a glance with his companion. But Mole doesn't return his gaze.

The shot apparently never hit anyone. A warning maybe? Or a stray bullet having missed its aim? He'd never know…

"Who ordered you to come here?" the Solomon Industries soldier asks, flanked on both sides by comrades that appear to be just as dark-clad, just as combat-ready as he is.

It is then that Joshua actually realizes how far his Manticore days lie behind him now, behind them all. Bad memories might still be stored away in their minds, haunting them every so often, having scarred their souls; and sure enough, Terminal City is not the perfect place, either; White might still be around, breathing down their necks, his obscure cult a constant threat to their lives.

And yet it's different.

Than this.

"Answer me, Dog!"

"Dude," Mole suddenly snarls out while the big fella's brow is furrowing in indignation, and he raises one arm, thus startling Joshua into retreating a step away from his friend's side. Mole sounds slightly dangerous, slightly annoyed.

Like the old Mole…

"Don't you be insulting my friend here, got that?"

"Uh, Mole…" Joshua injects, with one look pointing out that Mole better not argue, given the current circumstances.

What? The other one mouths, but shrugs his shoulders in defeat. No need to endanger the big one's life. After all, Mole has already caused one person's death today… Clenching his jaw he stares on, his unblinking eyes boring into his opponents.

"Who ordere-"

"No one. No orders – our own decision," Joshua interrupts the stranger and waits for him to lash out with his weapon any time now, readies himself for an attack.

But that attack never comes.

"Your _own_…?" the soldier in the front queries, more than slightly bewildered, right when his earpiece apparently jumps to life and he answers someone Josh can't hear.

"Yes, Sir. – Sector B… is cleared, I repeat: Sector B is cleared. Unit III will move on to Sector C now. Yes, Sir, roger that," the unknown soldier says, never once taking his eyes off of Joshua as if directing his report to him.

And then, when he does address him again: "What do you mean, your own?"

No one of his unit has made a move on either Josh or Mole this whole time, they all stand transfixed, waiting for something.

Not far away, the dead body of the poor kid is still lying in a heap on the cold floor, but Joshua tries not to look in that direction.

He doesn't really have to in order to see the image of the red stain spreading on the poor one's chest over and over again… It's still there, carved into his memory, as an echo of the actual scene…

"No one tells us what to do," he then hears Mole state matter-of-factly, and rather defiantly, too… "No one."

"Oh yeah? Well, sorry, Lizard, but you Seattle scum will have to learn to obey rules again, I'm afraid…"

Mole suddenly laughs out, a harsh and unpleasant sound. "Oh yeah, and you better _be_ afraid…" he then says, grinning at the other one, grinning like a madman, worrying Joshua all over again.

"Mole, no…" Joshua implores him, and then, remembering that he has done it once before, he readies himself for speaking to these people here, too.

They don't know, they _can't_ know what it's like out there…

* * *

The silence is eating at her, devouring her insides, painfully tearing her apart inch by inch. She presses one hand over her mouth, her stare imploring the ordinary not to hate her. Just please not to hate her…

"Med? What did Alec mean by sayin' that'cha…"

"I…" Med falters, frowning so hard it hurts. "I never meant to – I…"

She hears Alec snort, but doesn't dare look at him. She can feel how tense he is, how desperate to get his overexerted body to obey him.

Even X5s have their limits, though. And after what this one has been through…

"Please believe me, Cindy… Alec, I – I didn't know! I…"

"Oh yeah?" he hisses out, shooting Max a covert glance; Max, who is standing there like a child in shock, holding her bandaged head in both hands.

And Alec, holding his side, his neck marred by a thin red line…

Both not really heeding the _physical_ pain, though.

Never that.

Med catches Max's wild glare, the fearful anticipation she reads in the other woman's eyes nearly making her gag as she helplessly watches Max try to cope with what she's done.

Alec shoots Med a killing glance that sends shivers down her spine, not saying one word; and it's his silence that actually chills her the most.

Now that he could actually speak in Max's presence, now that he _can_…

But she didn't _know_. She didn't know…

* * *

The night is so cold that Ames is shivering in his thin suit coat while waiting for the Senator to arrive. Always late, that man. Annoyed, he stares at his watch for the hundredth time, cursing underneath his breath when that little idiot Grant enters the tent.

"His" tent, White amends mentally, grinning to himself. It's not like that fact makes the situation any more decent, though… Housed in a damn tent.

"What is it, Grant?" he asks, rather impatiently, apparently already scaring the other one with his slightly raised voice. Pathetic. And such a guy is working for him?

"Sir, reportedly, Solomon Industries is being attacked."

"Yeah, Grant. Any _news_, too?" White juggles with his cell phone and a transceiver while trying to get the computer in front of him to work, to show him the most recent pictures the satellite should have transmitted by now.

Black.

"What…" he mumbles to himself, distractedly poking at a few keys, but the screen remains dark.

"Sir?"

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me with this stupid thing now, huh? If not, then you may just as well go. GO!" he screams, making Grant's face fall, before the young agent manages to compose himself again and hurries to help his boss with his problem.

No way would Ames want to miss seeing the coverage of Conrad Solomon's dream being destroyed. No way…

Once those stupid transgenics have started fighting Solomon and his bunch of subordinates White will be free to do whatever he likes, free to chase 452 without having to fear repercussions, without having to fear someone interfering.

Let the freaks take care of the freaks first, and then…

White is not in a hurry. Not anymore. Yes, the Senator is a little impatient, and so are his other superiors, but once the Solomon problem is out of the way…

If 452 should still be sane by then, if 494 should still be alive, he has his ways to change that. To make them do whatever he wants them to do, and finally get rid of all of his problems at once.

The good part in having cooperated with that piece of shit Solomon was that Ames had been able to make his own scientists add one or the other little encoding during the process of programming. And while 452 knows about Solomon's manipulation, she doesn't know about _his_…

Neither does her constant companion, that annoying idiot 494...

… who will prove to be the perfect weapon for killing 452 swiftly and inconspicuously one day.

Eventually.

Oh yes, Ames can be patient, and he has ways of showing 452 how serious this all is.

No messing around with him.

Not anymore…

"Here, Sir, I think it's working now."

"You _think_?!"

* * *

Max doesn't really know what she is to do now; she can't wrap her mind around what she has done. Of course she knows she would have never done it of her own accord. And yet…

She sees Alec sitting propped up in bed, sees how agitated he is. But how could she walk up to him now, after what she has done. How could she walk up to him and touch him? Hug him?

She can't.

Even though it's the one thing she wants to do the most.

Hold the one who stayed, who did not leave her. Not yet.

The _one_…

But he will never forget, can never forgive her, she is sure of that, in spite of what she has read in his eyes.

That he _has_ forgiven her. He has…

And there is something else…

* * *

The echo of an image

inscribed into _her_ mind, too…

* * *

"Ma'am, I have to be back in Seattle by 0700 hours. They are expecting me to be there for the morning round," X5-1503 said, standing straight, facing Elaine.

"Morning round…" Elaine mused, tapping on her clipboard and adding a note to 1503's file. Integration process successfully completed.

"Yes, Ma'am, at the infirmary."

"Ah, I see. Well, don't worry 1503, you'll be long back by then. – I just need our two subjects to take a close look at you... We need to make sure that neither of them will recognize you when they will return to Terminal City."

"Ma'am?"

Elaine smiled. In leaving she put the clipboard down on the table and gently shoved the X5 out the door with her.

"Don't worry, 1503, just a simple thing. We don't want to spoil the experiment by carelessly letting them meet you unprepared, now do we?"

"No, of course not, Ma'am."

Obedient little soldier, this one.

With that said, Elaine led the soldier into one of the cold dark cells down in the basement. She could feel the young soldier tense involuntarily, surely remembering the times she herself had spent down here, being punished for one or the other mission gone wrong.

No need to worry this time, though, not for her, anyways.

* * *

"I never…" Med starts again, but it's useless. No one really wants to hear what she has to say, right? And she can't blame them.

Looking at Alec, who's only refraining from grabbing her in a choke-hold because his body is betraying him with its weakness, looking at him now she wonders what exactly he does remember.

But then, she doesn't really want to know…

No.

And grinning weakly in her desperation she raises both arms in surrender before whirling around and running for the door. Just wanting out.

She can't stay, can't confide in them. Not even in Cindy.

Especially not in Cindy. She'll just hate her.

And being hated now that she has actually learned what love feels like? She won't be able to bear that…

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Alec struggle to get out of bed, sees Max ready herself to go after her.

But it's Cindy she hears calling her name.

Her not-name.

Hears her beg Max and Alec to let _her_ deal with it…

But why?

No time to find it out. No time. She has to run, run…

Just run.

Away.

* * *

They emerge out of the shadows, out of the darkness and suddenly appear right in front of Conrad as if having materialized out of thin air.

Truly creepy, and if it weren't his own soldiers he'd surely be a little more spooked.

But seeing as these are _his_ creations…

He hardly believes his eyes when he sees one of them, a tall dark woman – if you could even call it that – raise her weapon and aim it at his head.

"Please…" he says, drawing the word out, grinning all the while. "Shouldn't you rather be defending yourselves against the advancing enemy at this very moment?" he inquires, stretching out one arm and making to grab the firearm.

"We _are_… _Sir_." She pulls her hand out of his reach – the one holding the gun – then readjusts her position, taking aim again, while suddenly two transhuman creatures appear in the midst of this troop of X-series soldiers.

And these two are not his…

Conrad's grin vanishes, slowly making room for a completely different expression.

* * *

X5-1503 entered the cold room and shivered involuntarily. She hated it down there, she hated it. It was so cold, so terrifying.

Back in Terminal City they didn't have rooms like that. Back in Terminal City they didn't have to be afraid of being put into a tiny cell. They didn't have to spend their days filled with missions and exercises, were not punished for "socializing."

Only a week with the Manticore rogues and already she felt at home in their little freak nation. Only a week since the two leaders had left TC for presumably taking their overdue days off… And already she never wanted to come back to SI…

She stood there, motionless, waiting for the present Psy-Ops personnel to wake the unconscious soldiers. She waited, staring at them both, remembering having been in their place once, too…

She sighed silently, grimacing ever so slightly. No one back in TC suspected something like this was happening to two of their chosen leaders. No one.

It was as if the transgenics of TC were starting to feel a little too detached from the harsh truth about their origins, were becoming a little too careless, despite that man White.

Whom she had seen standing in the lobby of SI just this morning. But what was a man like him doing there, anyways? Another mystery…

She didn't have time to contemplate the thought any further, though, for right then the piercing scream of one of the two Manticore rogues could be heard…

… echoing on and on, the sound mercilessly reverberating against the walls of the small room.

X5-1503 was forced to step closer to where both soldiers were seated in special reclining chairs, only half-conscious; she was forced to stare right into their bloodshot eyes, and it terrified her horribly.

The woman recognized her, right away, and 1503 saw a word form on the poor one's cracked lips.

Another scream, another attempt at silencing her, making her forget…

Again and again and again.

Until it was over, finally.

Finally; and she felt so horribly exhausted as if she had been the one they had tortured down there.

She was already half out of the room when something made her turn her head one last time and she found herself looking right into the clouded eyes of the male. She could have sworn there was something in his stare then. A hint of recognition, perhaps, not strong enough to prevail, maybe, yet it was there, would survive, even if buried somewhere deep in his subconsciousness.

She should have reported what she had seen, and yet she didn't.

Had wanted to spare him at least a bit of the pain.

She had a name now, a name she had been given by the people of TC; she no longer wanted to be X5-1503, obeying orders, doing whatever they wanted her to do. She wanted to be Med, the medic, who _helped_ people, _saved_ them…

She wanted to be Med…

* * *

A memory.

An image.

Something not quite tangible.

And yet it's there…

* * *

For a moment Max simply stands there, staring at Original Cindy, a questioning look in her eyes that doesn't need to be answered with actual words.

Because she can see it in OC's open face – written plainly across her beautiful features, for everyone to read. And with a nod she steps to the side, letting her friend pass, letting Med go.

The abrupt silence in the room suddenly becomes tangible, like a too heavy blanket spreading across her, across Alec, enclosing them in threatening privacy now that they are alone.

Alone, like they have always been.

And yet, Max doesn't feel all that alone…

Not anymore…

Slowly, yet decisively, she steps closer to the bed, closer still, all the while feeling Alec's inquisitive, wary stare on her. He doubts her, she can tell. He doubts her, and who can blame him, really.

She can't.

She bites down hard on the inner side of her bottom lip, indenting the soft flesh like she has done so often in the past.

She wants to ask him what made him yell at the medic, wants to share his memory, but she doesn't ask. Nothing that happened in the last couple days – or weeks? – nothing changed who he is, she can feel it, see it.

Still Alec.

Still the guy who'll always try to keep his bad memories in check by not talking about them.

Just like she had once done, still sometimes does.

"Alec?" she eventually croaks out, meeting the gaze of his unblinking eyes.

Apprehension…

"Alec…" she repeats, and finally, she reaches his side and hesitatingly extends one hand, her fingertips touching his arm now, following one long and prominent vein down to his hand.

She can't stop herself from tearing up again, she can't.

Not typical of her, she knows that; not what people would expect of her. But she no longer is that girl who meets people's expectations.

Not anymore.

Not after –

"Hey…" she finally whispers, silently begging for him to break his silence, begging like she has done uncounted times before.

* * *

"Med!" Cindy calls out, following the tall transgenic, and God only knows why she is doing this to herself. Running after a transgenic who is so much faster than she is.

But she has to. It's just…

"Med! Please." Cindy sees the other one stop in her tracks, rather abruptly, and she hisses out in relief. "Tell me, why," she then says, slowly catching up with the waiting woman.

No longer tall and proud. Just wounded, haunted.

Sad, and broken.

Just like the other transgenics, really, Cindy can't help but think. Just like all of them, one way or the other…

"Tell me what… tell OC what happened… _Med_… I won't accuse you, okay, I'll listen to yo' story, okay?"

And what she hears is nothing at first. Nothing. A thick silence, and the bustle of a few others working at the infirmary.

But then: a sob. One choked sob… and that single sound tears at her heart…

* * *

His thumbs trace the trails of tears down her face, his hands rough against her smooth skin, the simple touch more pleasurable than she could have hoped for. He leans forward, kissing her forehead gently, remaining in that position for a while longer, taking in her scent as he allows her to take in his…

Like once before.

He doesn't hate her…

And she whispers, "Please, Alec, tell me you're okay," her voice not much more than a breath against his skin, "Tell me it's over now, that everything is going to be alright again…"

* * *

He closes his eyes, forcing the images out of his mind, forcing them to leave. Gently, he holds Max's bandaged head in both hands, his forehead touching hers now, her breath a soft touch on his face.

She's alive. Still alive... And so is he.

"It's over now, Maxie," he eventually whispers, meaning every word, although he doesn't quite belief himself.

"You're okay now."

Is she really? He so hopes she will be…

"'N' I'm alright, too. Always. You hear me?"

He'll try his best, anyway, starting with trying to trust her again. Which won't be easy. But then, what has ever been easy in their lives?

He smiles.

And so does Max.

"Everything is gonna be alright again. Okay?"

It _is_…

* * *

Waiting for news White sits and stares at the darkening screen, not quite comprehending what he sees there. Not what he expected, not…

But Solomon is out of the way, right?

And White does have his means to get rid of 452 soon, too.

No matter what happened in Utah. No matter…

This time it all _will_ go according to plan.

And yet…

* * *

Solomon, facing the determined faces of unknown soldiers…

Mole and Joshua…

Cindy, grabbing Med's shaking hands in hers, holding her gaze with the dark orbs of her eyes…

Everything is gonna be alright again.

Right?

…

* * *

It can't quite be grasped, sometimes evades them completely.

That image. The echo of a half buried memory.

A kiss, an embrace, their entangled limbs.

The closeness of their bodies.

It has always been there, stored away in their minds, never to leave…

* * *

_A smile._

_His naked body pressed into hers, hard. Heat and bare skin and the light breeze of his breath in her hair, on her face, his lips buried against the nape of her neck, his hands all over her._

_And her hands?_

_All over him, tracing inch after inch, feeling herself, feeling _him_._

* * *

Just one image.

And their touch.

You _can_…

* * *

_Huh, guess I just might have screwed it up now…_

_Thanks so much for bearing with me all the time, for reading on despite all confusion, despite this having taken me forever to finish… It's been a pleasure. (:_

_So, thanks again!_


End file.
